I would like to thank you to follow this story
I know that sometimes words and sufferings are hard to read in this fic, but all this abuses and pains are a reality
Never forget, that in the end of this darkness, light 'll be….
CHAPTER 8: THE BOOK
He parked the Impala near a bookstore. He got out of it avoiding a laughing kid running on the walkway. Some man, his dad obviously, was following him.
"Be careful Brandon! You almost hit the man!" he said giving Dean an apologizing look.
Dean felt a bit sad about it. He pushed the bookstore's door and looked back, the man took the kid in his arms and kissed him.
He closed the door and it ringed. It was a nice place with the smell of books in the air. A man with his glasses around his neck approached.
"Hello Sir, may I help you?" he asked with a smile.
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Misses Nora, with her forever ruffled hair and her glasses at the end of her nose, was St Vincent's librarian.
Dean was going in her books kingdom once a week with his class. He didn't like school that much, it was just a shelter for him and his brother. He was the quiet student trying to not bring intention on him or on Sam… or on their scars.
When his father was beating too hard he pretended to fall in the schoolyard. He wasn't looking for trouble because he was too scared the teacher would call his dad to get him at school… of course he would pay for that.
His teachers just thought he was a clumsy kid. Sam had less scars so he didn't bring attention at all. One of Dean's teachers was suspicious though… he always was asking questions about his life at home but Dean always refused to answer. The teacher knew something was wrong but as fate was always striking, he was transferred in another school the next year, ending all Dean's unconscious hopes to end this.
Misses Nora was every Thursday mornings' meeting for Dean, and every Friday mornings' meeting for Sam. It was always the same ritual: she was taking a book, leaning in her armchair, the kids were sitting in front of her on the floor, she was opening the book rearranging her glasses and was smiling seeing the first page.
It was very quiet when she started reading. She had such a captivating voice, they were all living adventures with pirates or ghosts as she was reading making faces and imitating them. It was full of suspense and laughter. She was trying to give each character a single personality. She loved reading books as much as her students loved listening to her.
Misses Nora was open-minded and curious and she liked getting other people curious too. Even if Dean didn't like school, he loved Thursdays. It was a tiny light into his darkness. He was always looking down shyly when she was putting some book in her bag and told him to be quiet about it.
When the house was getting some silent the evening, he was reading that same books to his brother, imitating Misses Nora's reading and bringing a smile on Sam's face for a few minutes.
He grew up and left junior high, so magic Thursdays left too. He tried something else then: music.
Sam was still in junior high so he was still attending her reading sessions, and as she knew he was Dean's brother, she kept giving books to him. Dean would still read stories to him and sometimes he was singing. He had a soft and low voice. Sam liked looking at his brother when he was singing, leaning against the bedroom's wall, his eyes closed, locked in this new freedom they shared.
The day Dean left High School, he stopped at Misses Nora's library. She was older and had grey hair but she hadn't changed that much. There were no reading sessions in St Vincent anymore, but kids always liked to come to her so she would talk to them about her stories while they were eating their cookies.
Dean stepped toward the counter and she smiled. He grew up but she recognized him. He gave her a smile, he was here to thank her for everything she's done, giving her a chocolate box. Of course he never mentioned he stole it. She was so happy about it she kissed him and his body tensed. She noticed it and stepped back putting her hand on his arm and giving him an intense look. Dean closed himself like an oyster.
He was not used to receive such marks of affection; except for Sam and his mom when he was very little. He never had a proper hug or a kiss like this one.
That's why he wasn't keeping any girlfriend too, he was unable to share tender gestures so they were bored most of the time and left. It was sexy at first, giving him the bad boy attitude girls liked so much, but after a while they would figure it was just his true nature and they would have nothing more than that.
He was 15 when he found a training job at the factory. He had to do it to bring a future to Sam who loved to study.
Dean was no longer afraid of his father, he was fighting back and Sam started to do the same. Soon there were only screams, verbal abuse, threats, and the gun locked in the parent's room closet.
Sam was finding peace in his studies and Dean in his music. One of his factory's coworker taught him how to play guitar. Just basics to know how to play a bit while he was singing. It wasn't rare during lunch that workers were here in the canteen just to listen to Dean singing and playing guitar. It was the only thing he would share with people from the outside.
He stopped singing for people when his brother went to the psychiatric hospital, but he was still singing for himself and for Sam. It was an unbreakable link between them.
The music and the Cage… two different universes but both something he needed to survive.
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Dean looked up to the librarian.
"No thank you… I'm just watching."
"Alright Sir let me know if you need anything."
"Ok…Thank you."
He searched in the shelves, his hands in his pockets. Then he saw old books on a table and one of them made him curious. He took it and smiled while he was turning the pages.
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He had eggs and coffee this morning. He was deeply thinking about his day and what would come this afternoon.
Garth came over smiling.
"Hey! So how was your first day?" he asked looking if he could sit down with him.
Dean nodded to confirm he could.
"Not so bad. Thanks again for the planning it was very helpful."
"You're welcome." He searched his pocket and handed him a folded piece of paper.
"Here you are. Planning of the day."
"Thanks." He said taking it and putting it on the table next to him. He was dying to open it and read it but wouldn't show Garth, even if his look betrayed him.
"He will stay in his room… he always do." Garth said taking a bite of his pancake.
Dean didn't react. How the hell did he know?
"So what do you think about the East quarter now?"
"I have to admit the patients are a little bit more…" he searched for the exact word avoiding the forbidden ones.
"Difficult?" Garth helped.
"Not really… I'd say off their rocker but I suppose it wouldn't be appropriate."
Garth laughed.
"I guess you're right after all."
Dean smiled without looking away from his plate. He knew what Garth wanted to talk about and he really wanted to avoid the subject.
"I talked to Melvin." Garth said.
"Oh. And?"
"You've met Charles?" He said smiling.
"It was an accident." He said on the defensive.
"You don't have to justify yourself." Garth replied still eating. "You did well for a first day."
"Really?"
"When Phil started working he made a riot in the day room after only an hour." He laughed remembering it and stopped when he saw Dean wasn't reacting.
"Don't forget it's Wednesday"
Dean frowned.
"Suzanne's not here you'll have to clean the West quarter too."
Dean froze.
"Dude are you ok?" Garth worried.
"I completely forgot." He said pushing his plate away.
"Have you planned something else?"
"Yeah… no…forget about it." He said and went quiet, lost in his heavy silence.
"I can help you when I'm done if you want. We can make it in an hour."
Dean looked up.
"I can't ask you this, Garth. You've done enough for me."
"It will be my pleasure. I haven't been there for a while. I'll take that opportunity to say hi to my favorites."
Dean knew Garth was lying, he's never been to the West quarter, but he didn't say anything. They were both keeping secrets.
"Let's meet at 1 pm in front of the East gate, ok?"
Dean looked at his watch… 7.45 am, and then he stood up.
"I owe you one Garth."
"You don't, I told you it's my pleasure."
"I doubt it." Dean smiled lifting his plate. "See ya! I gotta run or I won't be on time."
"Hey Dean?"
He turned back and saw Garth handing his planning paper.
"Oh shit I almost forgot. Thanks man."
He put it in his jeans' pocket. Garth looked at him leaving and took a deep breath. He felt her sitting next to him.
"Hi Missouri, you're early today."
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He started by the day room this time. Only the black man from yesterday was sitting here. He was staring at the table in front of him. Dean could see his feet moving under it. Obviously he couldn't help it.
Armand nodded to greet him when he entered and did the same when he left. The caretaker, without being someone unpleasant, seemed to care more about the patients and not so much about his colleagues. He was not talking so much and when he did, he was saying the minimum. Sometimes Dean wondered if he wasn't just mimicking the patients.
He looked at the planning and saw Edward would be away for an hour so he took this opportunity to go clean his room. He didn't want to meet him again, he felt too uncomfortable around him and he was a little creepy. He saw evil in his eyes, he almost recognized his father's cold brown eyes.
He made a masterpiece today… he "painted" the wall in front of his bed and the one in the bathroom. He figured Edward only found this way to let Dean know he wanted to be the smartest.
Dean sighed putting his gloves on. He started to sing and suddenly smiled… he knew he would listen to him, so he sang a little louder.
It was an Otis Redding song, "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay."
Castiel turned to the door. He tilted his head as he wanted to listen to this strange sound coming from the corridor. The screams were mixed in the melody but he was focusing only on his voice… Dean's voice.
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He closed his car's door. He was standing in front of the house but he hesitated a long time.
Why?
As soon as he saw the address on his screen he knew he would come here. Something deep inside him was pushing him to do it, this look that was haunting him even in his sleep. His distress was calling him.
He finally figured there was no explanation to find, he was just following his instinct. He was connected to him whether he liked it or not, whether he chose it or not. Fate chose for him. The fastest he would understand what was wrong with Castiel, the fastest he would forget about it and go on with his life… at least what he called a life. He looked at his hands full of scars and wounds: he would feel alive next Saturday.
He looked up to see the dead house. From where he was standing he could already see the broken windows because nobody has lived in here since Elizabeth McLean, and because the house was visited a lot by young people trying to steal anything they could.
He crossed the empty street. Except for a small house nearby, the life in this street seemed to have run from this part of town. It was so quiet he would've thought he'd been in countryside. It was the perfect place to hide from the world…
When he arrived to the broken gate, he looked up to the roof pointing at the sky, and he felt sad. A whole life locked in here… he just couldn't imagine what it was like. It seemed impossible, even for someone like him who lived his own kind of hell. What monster could hide and abuse a human being till he was 30 without him to find the courage to flee? What kind of darkness does someone need to enslave someone like that for so long?
He needed to know.
The yellow police crossing line was hanging at the half open door. He pouted: it was such wreckage he wouldn't find anything to help him understand, but he pushed the door anyway and stepped in.
The smell… humidity mixed with pee. Cats must enjoy the place for sure. The first thing he saw was the stuffed dog near the stairs. There was a hat and a fake blue moustache on it. Dean smiled, thieves had some sense of humor.
He stepped in what he supposed was the living room, it was a real mess, and it was not only because of the housebreakers, he figured she was a real messy woman too. On the wall he could read "BITCH!" written with red painting spray.
After looking at the room he went to the kitchen. There were blood marks on the floor, probably that woman's blood. Dean surprised himself smiling at that… it was almost a satisfaction to see her blood right here. All the closets were open.
He swore when he almost fell on an empty can. There was absolutely no sign of life except the few Elizabeth left behind her… two pictures: a woman, kind of beautiful, a man with an empty look on her side, and a little smiling boy hanging at the arms of who probably was his son. It was a black and white picture but Dean figured the kid's eyes were blue, and his hair was almost blond so he thought it was not Castiel.
The second picture was a man in his forties with his mouth hanging and his eyes empty… he looked really dumb.
Dean scratched his jacket, he felt like the dirt was sticking to his clothes. The house was so old he figured she never cared about cleaning or keeping it fresh.
"Crazy house…" Dean whispered and sighed.
He looked to the hallway and was very surprised to see so many crosses in the house: One in the living room, one in the kitchen near the sink, another one in the first floor's wall.
He walked toward the stairs and started climbing the first step, and he stopped, he was feeling very nervous at that moment. He exhaled and closed his eyes, and finally he found the courage to climb all the stairs. There was a long hallway with four doors.
He walked through it and looked inside each room. There was one bathroom and three bedrooms. The first one was probably hers as there still was a night clothe on the bed. There was also Virgin Mary on her nightstand and Jesus-Christ on the wall above the bed.
In the second room the bed was in order. If there weren't drawers on the floor he would've think nobody have slept in this room for years.
In the third room there was just an empty bed and the curtains were closed. Dean entered when he saw a huge open case. He was curious… why was it still here after all the thieves' visits? It was like nobody wanted to touch it. It was actually full of pajamas and night clothes, all folded and in order but dirty and used. Dean extended his hand slowly and he took one of the clothes. It was a night shirt. As soon as he moved it, a terrible wave of urine smell almost made him puke.
"Holy shit!" He said full of emotion and surprise.
He put it back in the case and wiped his hand on his pants.
He walked out of the room feeling nauseous. He looked up and saw a trapdoor on the ceiling. He felt his courage leaving his body but after a few minutes of hesitation he walked toward it and saw the ladder built to climb up. He took it and placed it under the trapdoor. He climbed it and was suddenly near the hell's door, he wasn't so sure he still wanted to see it. He lost all his strength making his legs shake. He pushed some wire away with his hands and searched where it could come from. He wasn't long to find out and it was already a part of the answers he needed: the trapdoor was electrified, he couldn't get out. He tried to turn it on and off using the switch but there was no power in the house.
He pushed the trapdoor with his shoulder and it opened in a loud noise, he could hear the locks clicking when it fell on the attic's floor.
He looked up to the wood roof, climbed the last ladder's bar and froze when he was almost in the attic.
It was just a room with a very high ceiling, there was something looking like a fireplace in the center but he saw nothing to light a fire in it. It was a very big place, probably the whole surface of the house. The only opening was a big skylight but it was so dirty the sun was barely filtering inside. He saw a switch on a wall so he finally stepped inside the attic.
He took his head in his hands: 30 years in this place, how could he possibly be alive today?
He walked, the floor was crackling under his feet and he wondered if it would be strong enough to support his weight.
Behind the fireplace, against the wall, there was something he figured was a bed. The sheets were very dirty and very old, the pillow had no case and Dean was shocked when he saw leather bands on the four corners of the bed, probably used as ties.
His eyes fell on some dry flowers at the feet of the bed. He approached and saw a note on it saying "I'm sorry." It was probably one of the housebreakers who came here and knew the story of the house. There was nothing to steal or destroy in here though.
There was nothing except the bed, a table and a chair. Of course there was a cross hanging on the fireplace too. He also saw a shelf and few books on it, full of dirt and used because of humidity. He couldn't even read anything on it. Some pajamas were on it too, some very old underwear and a pair of old shoes.
Dean was submerged by emotion, he felt his throat tightening. Picturing Castiel between those walls, lost with nothing more than a skylight, he understood why he was always standing at his window in St Gerry… it was so clear now.
He walked a bit and saw something looking like a closet. Actually it was his bathroom, just a big bowl with a tap, only cold water of course, a colorless towel full of holes, a brick of black soap and chemical toilets.
Dean felt a tear on his cheek, he wiped it with his hand, he was full of rage at that moment. No pain, no sadness, just anger and rage. How a kid, a teenager and later an adult could've been hidden for so long without anyone to notice? How come nobody ever tried to understand? It should've been some signs! Nobody heard him cry? Or scream? Or move? How can you possible stay here quiet?
Then he remembered Sam and him… there had been signs but people were deaf and blind about them.
Submerged by rage, he punched the wall with all his strength which left a hole in it. It left a hole in his heart too. He could never forget what he saw today.
It took a few minutes for him to calm down. He turned around and saw drawings on the wall. He approached frowning, they were almost gone, but there were a lot. He looked and extended his hand to touch, it was almost graved in the wall and in the wood. He put his full hand on it and closed his eyes, then he stood up in a sigh and left without looking back in the attic.
He ran down the stairs, and in the alley until he reached his car. He sat in the Impala, turned the engine on and drove.
On his way back in St Gerry he tried to calm down and find his self-control back, but he was still submerged by rage and pain.
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He decided room 14 would always been the last he would clean, and the one he would spend more time in too. He would spend less time with the other patients and felt a bit guilty about it but after all they were all in the day room when he was cleaning their rooms, and he was not a caretaker.
He looked inside through the small window and here he was again, standing in front of the window. He wondered what was happening in his head while he was watching outside. He typed the code and stepped in taking a deep breath.
"Hi Cas!"
He saw his shoulder shivering but he didn't turn around. Dean searched for his eyes in the window's reflection but Castiel wasn't looking. He felt a note of disappointment and pouted.
"What did you expect?" he thought walking to the bathroom.
When he started cleaning the bathroom and start singing, Castiel turned around, first looking at the floor and then his eyes moved to the bathroom's door. Dean was still singing the Otis Redding song.
He was cleaning the mirror when he felt observed. He half smiled, stopped singing and turned a bit. Castiel was here, leaning in the bathroom's door with his tilted head proving he was listening.
"You like it right?" Dean said stepping forward.
Castiel stepped back at the first move. Dean faked needing his rag on the supply cart and he showed it to Castiel to prove him he didn't want to harm, but Castiel stayed in the middle of the room refusing to come back.
Dean started to talk to him without even knowing why, he was just feeling free to do it.
"You seem to like music? I should think about bringing my MP3 player one of these days… ok it's terrible compared to vinyl's disk but at least you can use it everywhere. But really nothing will be better than old school disks."
He was still talking music and Castiel didn't understand a thing. MP3… speakers… disks… words without any meaning for him. What had a meaning though was the man talking to him, making him feel he was real and alive… he really had a life. He wasn't speaking to him like he was a mad person or as he couldn't understand, he was just talking to him like he was a normal human being. Not like Garth who was always talking about his own life and never cared about him. He felt Dean wanted to share something.
When he came back in the room, Dean saw Castiel didn't move from his spot but he had no fear, no pain and no confusion in his eyes… he looked curious.
"Well it seems music woke you up. That's good news I'll remember it."
He stepped forward and this time Castiel didn't move, but he still tensed a little and he put his right arm on his chest. Dean smiled a little at that move, it didn't mean anything to him. He was now right in front of Castiel.
"I will talk about it with Mary or Garth and see if I can bring some music in here because dude it's really boring! You must be damned bored here all day uh?"
He smiled and Castiel tilted his head. After a short moment of silence Dean hesitated but said:
"This afternoon I'm going for a little trip. I'm going… I'm going…" he really mumbled on that one "I'm going to see your previous house. I just wanted you to know, don't ask me why."
He laughed alone.
"It's crazy because you can't talk and you sure won't answer me anyway." He looked at him and his forever lost look.
"I wonder if you understand a word I'm saying." He sighed. "Anyway… I just wanted you to know about it. That's all."
Castiel didn't react.
"Ok move from here or I'll be late." He said looking at his watch. "Damn! 12:45!"
He caught his broom "Come on move!"
Castiel understood and obeyed, walking to the window. He took his position back and observed Dean cleaning in a rush.
"I'm sorry, we'll talk longer tomorrow… well I will talk longer tomorrow." He said smiling.
"I need to go to the West quarter now and I have to hurry if I want to go to…" he looked at Castiel "…well you know."
It brought a few minutes of silence.
"I have to go now. I would like to stay but… you know… see you tomorrow?"
Castiel turned to face the window but this time Dean caught his look in the reflection.
"Bye Cas!"
He closed the door looking back one last time and he walked to the exit with his cart, Garth was waiting for him there.
Missouri got out of Charles' room: she knew it. She had to talk to Mary.
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Dean came back just in time from his strange visit, Mark was about to close the kitchen. He gave him the dinner he saved for him and as the refectory was empty Dean decided to take it and eat in his place.
He put his plate on his desk and took the book out of the little bag. He took a pen he wrote on the first page "property of Castiel."
Tomorrow was Thursday. In three days Phil would be back and his work at the East quarter would end. He couldn't help but felt bad about it. He would have to talk to Mary and be honest. If she refused to switch with Phil sometimes, he would ask if he could still visit him. She would ask a ton of questions but he was decided to answer and tell the truth, the only truth: "we shared hell." Even if Dean's hell wasn't the same: Castiel had no Sam, no Misses Nora, no Deveraux and no Gaby… it was just him and the devil woman.
The pain and the scars in their bodies and their souls are the same though. Dean wanted to be the helping hands which saved him.
He hoped he could wake something up in him with the book and the music.
"We're going to make it, you'll see."
He ate, took a shower and crashed on his bed.
End of chapter 8
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Or, perhaps, just talk about all this (the abuses and pains), with your family or friends, maybe there are a Castiel or a Dean not so far…
Please listen, look at them…
Help them…
Thank you to have read this chapter, hope to see you in next one…