Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Asylum ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: selena281 
Non Anime: Supernatural Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 01.01.2012 | Pages: 3 | Words: 3.2K | Visits: 196 | Status: Work In Progress
Non Anime: Supernatural Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Suspense | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 01.01.2012 | Pages: 3 | Words: 3.2K | Visits: 196 | Status: Work In Progress
______________________
Asylum
Supernatural, AU
Dean/Sam
Summary: For the past few years, Dean Winchester has been a resident of various mental health facilities and has gained quite a reputation since being forcibly admitted. Abandoned by his father who had previously been a patient himself, the only thing keeping him going is the thought of his brother.
*Disclaimer* I do not own anything. Except maybe the occasional OC. Supernatural is property of Eric Kripke and others.
A/N: There shouldn't really be any spoilers. I am using some characters that show up possibly into season 2 which is mostly all I've seen at the time of this writing. Though I did watch the entire animated series first.
(((The anime starts out slow the first couple episodes, but then it is amazing. And different enough from the original show that both are totally worth watching. The animated series is more slashy, which I love (*ETA* I rescind this comment. The TV show got waaay more slashy than I ever could have guessed. Haha. I love it.) The anime also condenses the yellow-eyes plot into the one main storyline. Streamlines it so to speak. And they `fix' and refine some scenes and characters into something better.)))
The most spoilery thing you might find about this fic is that a character exists, and that I try to keep them IC. You know, just in case you haven't watched the show that far or something. But I'm totally changing around personal histories and stuff.
FYI: The only other thing I want to say is that I am not a fan of incest. AT ALL. But Sam and Dean just... I dunno. Maybe I'm just picking up on the chemistry I see onscreen but they just don't strike me as brothers really. And they make such good pair. Hell, if they even make jokes in the show about them looking like they are a couple... lol. Just sayin'.
Prologue:
______________________
3/15/1988 Kansas
It was black out. Night. Dean could hardly see anything, but he was sure he'd made the shot. He was positive that he'd hit it. His small hands shook as they lowered the sawed off shotgun. His heart was still hammering, and the sound of the blast was still ringing in his ears.
“Good job, son,” his father said, clapping him on the back. He lowered the infrared goggles from his face and handed them to the 9 year old boy.
Dean took them and held them up. He could see clearly now, though he wasn't sure he wanted to. His quarry lay dead, shot through the heart.
His dad seemed proud of him.
He lowered the goggles and tried to figure out if it was adrenaline that he was feeling, or if he was merely going to be sick. “Thanks, Dad.”
---
12/23/1993 Lawrence, Kansas
“Boys?” Mary Winchester called out as she arrived home early from an abbreviated flight. The client's negotiations had wrapped up more quickly than planned so she had unexpectedly been gifted with getting home two hours early. She locked the front door and reached down to slip her high heels off. “Boys, are you here?”
She frowned as she put her leather folio down on the kitchen counter. It was nearly 7 p.m. Everyone should have been home at this time.
“Mommy!” Sam yelled energetically as he barreled down the hallway and crashed into her with an equally energetic hug. “I missed you! What's for dinner? How come you're home early?”
“I missed you, too, sweetie,” she said, tussling his soft, curling fair hair. “Our trip didn't take as long as we thought it would, so that means I get extra time with you.” She tapped him gently on the nose, laughing when he shook his head and swatted at her hand.
“Moooom,” he whined. “I hate when you do that!”
Mary looked around the darkened house, still feeling uneasy. “Where's your brother? And where is your father? Shouldn't he be making you dinner?”
“Dean went to buy me some EasyMac&Cheese,” the bright-eyed boy chirped, bouncing on his heels.
EasyMac... Mary shook her head, brows drawing together. There had been an unopened box of them in the pantry when she'd left for her trip. She knew how Sammy loved the stuff. But how in the world would he have made it through a whole box? He would have had to be eating it every day this past week.
The lock in the front door turned and Dean's surprised face appeared as the door swung open. He was wearing a pair of jeans that looked practically slept in, an equally wrinkled black t-shirt bearing the band name Megadeth and his favorite flannel shirt over that. “Hey, Mom,” he said casually. “What are you doing home?”
“Where were you?” she asked sharply. “How could you leave your brother home alone like that? He's only 10.” She knew where he had supposedly gone, and the plastic grocery bag in his hand made that even clearer, but she couldn't understand how he had thought that leaving Sammy by himself was okay. It made her feel slightly panicked. How long had he been gone? Was it only to the store and back? Where was John?
“I-I just went to the store,” her 14 year old son stammered. He'd absolutely frozen in the doorway and an almost guilty look was flickering upon his face like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel bad or not. It reminded her of his father. He was watching her face intently with wide green eyes. “Sammy loves his EasyMac--” he tried to explain.
“I know he does!” she snapped, feeling her younger son recoil at her tone. “Dean, where is your father?”
“I'm n-not sure. He said he'd be back in a few days.” Dean was sure that he'd never seen his mother so angry. He wasn't even sure why she was. He was 14, for chrissakes. He was able to take care of himself. And Sammy was 10, not a whole lot younger; did she think that he was going to drown himself in the tub like a baby if he was left alone for 20 minutes?
They were careful. They weren't going to let anything in the house. Sammy knew to salt the windows and he'd even gotten really good with the revolver. So why was she freaking out? Didn't she think that dad would train them right?
Part of him wondered though, seeing her reaction, if this was why dad always hunted when she was gone for work. Now that he thought of it, dad had always joked around saying, `Don't tell your mother,' with a conspiratorial wink. Dean had thought it was just a guy thing. A way of bonding. He'd asked his dad before why he wasn't supposed to talk about their training or hunting trips and he'd said that he didn't want her to worry.
Just now, `worry' didn't seem to be the half of it. She looked furious.
“That's it!” she declared with finality. “I can't believe him! How could he--?” She swiped her bag off of the counter. “This is just so--!”
Dean was starting to get nervous. Something big was about to happen. “Mom, it's no big deal. We can take care of ourselves.” He made himself shut the door and lock it behind him, and bravely brought the grocery bag into the kitchen as if nothing was wrong.
”How often does he leave like this?” she asked him, her voice becoming softer but not less intense. It quavered slightly.
“Now and then,” Dean said shiftily, trying to make light of it, sensing something was about to change.
“Sammy, honey?” she turned to his little brother and crouched down in front of him. Her hands rested on his small shoulders and she looked him in the eye quite seriously. “Does Daddy trust you to take care of yourselves a lot?” She sugar-coated her voice, which seemed to confuse Sam.
Sam glanced at Dean as if unsure of what he was supposed to do. He didn't seem to understand why his brother was acting strangely, and why he wasn't being honest with their mom.
“Eyes over here, baby,” Mary said, pulling Sam's attention back to her and disallowing any sort of silent communication they might have had. “Does Daddy leave you at home a lot?”
”Well, sure,” he said uncertainly.
She flinched. “Is he gone for a long time?”
Sam was still looking confused, but now he was also starting to look anxious. He was catching on. ”Not more than a few days, tops,” he blurted out, his dark grey eyes, too large in his pale face, brimming with emotion. He looked like he might have added, `scout's honor!' “He tries to always be home when you are, though. Since he misses you.”
Sam thought this should make her happy, so he didn't understand Dean hissing under his breath, or their mom grabbing him by the arm. He wouldn't have understood that his words had just confirmed that their dad was doing things behind their mother's back.
Mary rose abruptly. ”We're leaving. Right now.”
Sammy couldn't have known that she was feeling betrayed. Or that something like this had happened before, when he was really little and that their parents had nearly divorced over it. But Dean knew.
“Wait! Mom!”
Dean realized in that moment that his father had been keeping secrets. Mom had never been okay with this after all. She hadn't come to see reason; she just hadn't known about the continued training, the hunting trips, any of it.
He had to do something. They couldn't just leave Dad like this. Even if Dad had been wrong, lying to him as well as her. But he was just doing what he thought was best. He just wanted them safe.
“Dean!” Sam called out, pulling at the grip on his arm.
Mary Winchester looked upon her oldest son. She was like a statue. Beautiful and made of stone. “I see him in you, Dean.” Her voice seemed strange. Regretful? “Already, you're protecting his bizarre behavior.”
“But Mom, you don't understand! Dad, he-!” he broke off as understanding dawned sharply and stole his protest. “You're taking Sammy away from me?”
She's going to leave me and Dad? He felt so lost then. Cold. As if he had already watched half of his family walk away and disappear over the horizon.
She looked at him frankly, with an adult's seriousness, placing the burden on him of growing up too fast in this moment. Her eyes were a steely blue-grey, similar to Sammy's. “Between me and your father, you would choose to stay with him, wouldn't you?”
Choose? How could he choose? Maybe he got along better with his dad, but he loved them both. And it wasn't just about them... it was really a choice between Dad, or both Mom and Sammy. How could he stand to lose Sam, whom he loved best of all?
“I-” Dean turned tormented eyes to his baby brother's face. “I- don't know.” His dad needed him... but what about Sammy? Was she really going to take him? Sam was all he had when Dad was gone for days on end. What would he do without him? Who would protect him? His mom didn't know... couldn't and wouldn't know. How could she keep him safe?
His dad or Sammy? Whom would he pick? Who was more important? Could he really leave his dad like this? Let him come home to an empty house, not knowing what had happened to them? Should he let his dad's training guide him? His first duty was to take care of and protect his little brother...
“Dean,” Sam was crying. He tried to pretend he wasn't, but his lip was trembling and his eyes were glazed with tears that would be falling down his cheeks at any minute.
“Sammy... I can't leave Dad.” If his mom was really walking out on them, his dad would be a mess when he found out. Even so, saying it hurt. And the crestfallen expression that met his words felt like a knife had been stuck in his chest. “I just want to make sure he's ok. I'll meet up with you later.” His own cheeks felt wet for some reason. He wiped at them.
Sam finally succeeded in twisting his arm out of his mother's grip and ran to Dean, throwing his arms around him in a desperate hug. Dean returned the embrace and could feel the younger boy's slight body shaking. “Promise me,” he sniffed. “When Dad's ok, you have to come back.”
Dean raised his eyes to his mother's. They'd never looked so stern or so cold. He wondered if she'd allow him to keep such a promise. “I will,” he said softly.
Sam raised tear-streaked eyes to his. “Promise?” he demanded.
Dean nodded. “I promise.” He only hoped he'd find a way not to break his word.
---
6/09/2003 Stonybrook State Hospital, NY
“So,” the psychiatrist said, “Dean.”
“Yes?” Dean answered glibly, sprawling disrespectfully in the chair across from the doctor.
“Your file says that you have been in and out of detention centers since you were 16.”
“That's right,” he said un-apologetically. It couldn't be helped, after all.
“And you were living with your father during this time?”
Dean nodded and sighed. That was around the time his father was institutionalized. “Look, I get that you are trying to `know' me and all, but can't you just read the damn file on your own? I'm getting tired of all this yes-man crap.”
“Of course I could read it on my own, but I want to know your thoughts on what it says.”
“I've gone through this like 100 times now and I hate repeats. If you were all so anxious to give what I thought any credence, would I really be sitting in this chair right now, talking to you?”
“I know it must be frustrating for you--”
“You're damn right it is! This may be your first time around the block, but it isn't mine. You think with all the money you all spent on fancy schools to get your certificates in head-shrinking, that you could damn well learn to take some notes when people are talking to you.”
Dr. Kubrick put down his file and steepled his hands. “Very well, Mr. Winchester, why don't you tell me why you think you're here.” His tone was vaguely sarcastic.
Dean gave him a surly look. “Why don't you go to hell.”
The man sighed and stood, gathering some paperwork and putting it into his leather briefcase. “I think we're done for today.”
“You think?” Dean retorted.
“I'll put in my recommendation for your new prescription and we'll start it next week.”
Dean stiffened. “Hey, wait a minute. I don't need pills, Doc. There's nothing wrong with me.”
The psychiatrist shrugged. “Of course. And that is why I was sitting over here, and you over there.” He closed his briefcase with a snap.
Dean lunged up from his chair but found himself grabbed and restrained by two orderlies he hadn't noticed until now. “There's nothing wrong with me!” he shouted as the doctor calmly exited the room. “Hey--!” He strained against the iron grip upon him. “I said, there's nothing wrong with me!!”
---
TBC
Asylum
Supernatural, AU
Dean/Sam
Summary: For the past few years, Dean Winchester has been a resident of various mental health facilities and has gained quite a reputation since being forcibly admitted. Abandoned by his father who had previously been a patient himself, the only thing keeping him going is the thought of his brother.
*Disclaimer* I do not own anything. Except maybe the occasional OC. Supernatural is property of Eric Kripke and others.
A/N: There shouldn't really be any spoilers. I am using some characters that show up possibly into season 2 which is mostly all I've seen at the time of this writing. Though I did watch the entire animated series first.
(((The anime starts out slow the first couple episodes, but then it is amazing. And different enough from the original show that both are totally worth watching. The animated series is more slashy, which I love (*ETA* I rescind this comment. The TV show got waaay more slashy than I ever could have guessed. Haha. I love it.) The anime also condenses the yellow-eyes plot into the one main storyline. Streamlines it so to speak. And they `fix' and refine some scenes and characters into something better.)))
The most spoilery thing you might find about this fic is that a character exists, and that I try to keep them IC. You know, just in case you haven't watched the show that far or something. But I'm totally changing around personal histories and stuff.
FYI: The only other thing I want to say is that I am not a fan of incest. AT ALL. But Sam and Dean just... I dunno. Maybe I'm just picking up on the chemistry I see onscreen but they just don't strike me as brothers really. And they make such good pair. Hell, if they even make jokes in the show about them looking like they are a couple... lol. Just sayin'.
Prologue:
______________________
3/15/1988 Kansas
It was black out. Night. Dean could hardly see anything, but he was sure he'd made the shot. He was positive that he'd hit it. His small hands shook as they lowered the sawed off shotgun. His heart was still hammering, and the sound of the blast was still ringing in his ears.
“Good job, son,” his father said, clapping him on the back. He lowered the infrared goggles from his face and handed them to the 9 year old boy.
Dean took them and held them up. He could see clearly now, though he wasn't sure he wanted to. His quarry lay dead, shot through the heart.
His dad seemed proud of him.
He lowered the goggles and tried to figure out if it was adrenaline that he was feeling, or if he was merely going to be sick. “Thanks, Dad.”
---
12/23/1993 Lawrence, Kansas
“Boys?” Mary Winchester called out as she arrived home early from an abbreviated flight. The client's negotiations had wrapped up more quickly than planned so she had unexpectedly been gifted with getting home two hours early. She locked the front door and reached down to slip her high heels off. “Boys, are you here?”
She frowned as she put her leather folio down on the kitchen counter. It was nearly 7 p.m. Everyone should have been home at this time.
“Mommy!” Sam yelled energetically as he barreled down the hallway and crashed into her with an equally energetic hug. “I missed you! What's for dinner? How come you're home early?”
“I missed you, too, sweetie,” she said, tussling his soft, curling fair hair. “Our trip didn't take as long as we thought it would, so that means I get extra time with you.” She tapped him gently on the nose, laughing when he shook his head and swatted at her hand.
“Moooom,” he whined. “I hate when you do that!”
Mary looked around the darkened house, still feeling uneasy. “Where's your brother? And where is your father? Shouldn't he be making you dinner?”
“Dean went to buy me some EasyMac&Cheese,” the bright-eyed boy chirped, bouncing on his heels.
EasyMac... Mary shook her head, brows drawing together. There had been an unopened box of them in the pantry when she'd left for her trip. She knew how Sammy loved the stuff. But how in the world would he have made it through a whole box? He would have had to be eating it every day this past week.
The lock in the front door turned and Dean's surprised face appeared as the door swung open. He was wearing a pair of jeans that looked practically slept in, an equally wrinkled black t-shirt bearing the band name Megadeth and his favorite flannel shirt over that. “Hey, Mom,” he said casually. “What are you doing home?”
“Where were you?” she asked sharply. “How could you leave your brother home alone like that? He's only 10.” She knew where he had supposedly gone, and the plastic grocery bag in his hand made that even clearer, but she couldn't understand how he had thought that leaving Sammy by himself was okay. It made her feel slightly panicked. How long had he been gone? Was it only to the store and back? Where was John?
“I-I just went to the store,” her 14 year old son stammered. He'd absolutely frozen in the doorway and an almost guilty look was flickering upon his face like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to feel bad or not. It reminded her of his father. He was watching her face intently with wide green eyes. “Sammy loves his EasyMac--” he tried to explain.
“I know he does!” she snapped, feeling her younger son recoil at her tone. “Dean, where is your father?”
“I'm n-not sure. He said he'd be back in a few days.” Dean was sure that he'd never seen his mother so angry. He wasn't even sure why she was. He was 14, for chrissakes. He was able to take care of himself. And Sammy was 10, not a whole lot younger; did she think that he was going to drown himself in the tub like a baby if he was left alone for 20 minutes?
They were careful. They weren't going to let anything in the house. Sammy knew to salt the windows and he'd even gotten really good with the revolver. So why was she freaking out? Didn't she think that dad would train them right?
Part of him wondered though, seeing her reaction, if this was why dad always hunted when she was gone for work. Now that he thought of it, dad had always joked around saying, `Don't tell your mother,' with a conspiratorial wink. Dean had thought it was just a guy thing. A way of bonding. He'd asked his dad before why he wasn't supposed to talk about their training or hunting trips and he'd said that he didn't want her to worry.
Just now, `worry' didn't seem to be the half of it. She looked furious.
“That's it!” she declared with finality. “I can't believe him! How could he--?” She swiped her bag off of the counter. “This is just so--!”
Dean was starting to get nervous. Something big was about to happen. “Mom, it's no big deal. We can take care of ourselves.” He made himself shut the door and lock it behind him, and bravely brought the grocery bag into the kitchen as if nothing was wrong.
”How often does he leave like this?” she asked him, her voice becoming softer but not less intense. It quavered slightly.
“Now and then,” Dean said shiftily, trying to make light of it, sensing something was about to change.
“Sammy, honey?” she turned to his little brother and crouched down in front of him. Her hands rested on his small shoulders and she looked him in the eye quite seriously. “Does Daddy trust you to take care of yourselves a lot?” She sugar-coated her voice, which seemed to confuse Sam.
Sam glanced at Dean as if unsure of what he was supposed to do. He didn't seem to understand why his brother was acting strangely, and why he wasn't being honest with their mom.
“Eyes over here, baby,” Mary said, pulling Sam's attention back to her and disallowing any sort of silent communication they might have had. “Does Daddy leave you at home a lot?”
”Well, sure,” he said uncertainly.
She flinched. “Is he gone for a long time?”
Sam was still looking confused, but now he was also starting to look anxious. He was catching on. ”Not more than a few days, tops,” he blurted out, his dark grey eyes, too large in his pale face, brimming with emotion. He looked like he might have added, `scout's honor!' “He tries to always be home when you are, though. Since he misses you.”
Sam thought this should make her happy, so he didn't understand Dean hissing under his breath, or their mom grabbing him by the arm. He wouldn't have understood that his words had just confirmed that their dad was doing things behind their mother's back.
Mary rose abruptly. ”We're leaving. Right now.”
Sammy couldn't have known that she was feeling betrayed. Or that something like this had happened before, when he was really little and that their parents had nearly divorced over it. But Dean knew.
“Wait! Mom!”
Dean realized in that moment that his father had been keeping secrets. Mom had never been okay with this after all. She hadn't come to see reason; she just hadn't known about the continued training, the hunting trips, any of it.
He had to do something. They couldn't just leave Dad like this. Even if Dad had been wrong, lying to him as well as her. But he was just doing what he thought was best. He just wanted them safe.
“Dean!” Sam called out, pulling at the grip on his arm.
Mary Winchester looked upon her oldest son. She was like a statue. Beautiful and made of stone. “I see him in you, Dean.” Her voice seemed strange. Regretful? “Already, you're protecting his bizarre behavior.”
“But Mom, you don't understand! Dad, he-!” he broke off as understanding dawned sharply and stole his protest. “You're taking Sammy away from me?”
She's going to leave me and Dad? He felt so lost then. Cold. As if he had already watched half of his family walk away and disappear over the horizon.
She looked at him frankly, with an adult's seriousness, placing the burden on him of growing up too fast in this moment. Her eyes were a steely blue-grey, similar to Sammy's. “Between me and your father, you would choose to stay with him, wouldn't you?”
Choose? How could he choose? Maybe he got along better with his dad, but he loved them both. And it wasn't just about them... it was really a choice between Dad, or both Mom and Sammy. How could he stand to lose Sam, whom he loved best of all?
“I-” Dean turned tormented eyes to his baby brother's face. “I- don't know.” His dad needed him... but what about Sammy? Was she really going to take him? Sam was all he had when Dad was gone for days on end. What would he do without him? Who would protect him? His mom didn't know... couldn't and wouldn't know. How could she keep him safe?
His dad or Sammy? Whom would he pick? Who was more important? Could he really leave his dad like this? Let him come home to an empty house, not knowing what had happened to them? Should he let his dad's training guide him? His first duty was to take care of and protect his little brother...
“Dean,” Sam was crying. He tried to pretend he wasn't, but his lip was trembling and his eyes were glazed with tears that would be falling down his cheeks at any minute.
“Sammy... I can't leave Dad.” If his mom was really walking out on them, his dad would be a mess when he found out. Even so, saying it hurt. And the crestfallen expression that met his words felt like a knife had been stuck in his chest. “I just want to make sure he's ok. I'll meet up with you later.” His own cheeks felt wet for some reason. He wiped at them.
Sam finally succeeded in twisting his arm out of his mother's grip and ran to Dean, throwing his arms around him in a desperate hug. Dean returned the embrace and could feel the younger boy's slight body shaking. “Promise me,” he sniffed. “When Dad's ok, you have to come back.”
Dean raised his eyes to his mother's. They'd never looked so stern or so cold. He wondered if she'd allow him to keep such a promise. “I will,” he said softly.
Sam raised tear-streaked eyes to his. “Promise?” he demanded.
Dean nodded. “I promise.” He only hoped he'd find a way not to break his word.
---
6/09/2003 Stonybrook State Hospital, NY
“So,” the psychiatrist said, “Dean.”
“Yes?” Dean answered glibly, sprawling disrespectfully in the chair across from the doctor.
“Your file says that you have been in and out of detention centers since you were 16.”
“That's right,” he said un-apologetically. It couldn't be helped, after all.
“And you were living with your father during this time?”
Dean nodded and sighed. That was around the time his father was institutionalized. “Look, I get that you are trying to `know' me and all, but can't you just read the damn file on your own? I'm getting tired of all this yes-man crap.”
“Of course I could read it on my own, but I want to know your thoughts on what it says.”
“I've gone through this like 100 times now and I hate repeats. If you were all so anxious to give what I thought any credence, would I really be sitting in this chair right now, talking to you?”
“I know it must be frustrating for you--”
“You're damn right it is! This may be your first time around the block, but it isn't mine. You think with all the money you all spent on fancy schools to get your certificates in head-shrinking, that you could damn well learn to take some notes when people are talking to you.”
Dr. Kubrick put down his file and steepled his hands. “Very well, Mr. Winchester, why don't you tell me why you think you're here.” His tone was vaguely sarcastic.
Dean gave him a surly look. “Why don't you go to hell.”
The man sighed and stood, gathering some paperwork and putting it into his leather briefcase. “I think we're done for today.”
“You think?” Dean retorted.
“I'll put in my recommendation for your new prescription and we'll start it next week.”
Dean stiffened. “Hey, wait a minute. I don't need pills, Doc. There's nothing wrong with me.”
The psychiatrist shrugged. “Of course. And that is why I was sitting over here, and you over there.” He closed his briefcase with a snap.
Dean lunged up from his chair but found himself grabbed and restrained by two orderlies he hadn't noticed until now. “There's nothing wrong with me!” he shouted as the doctor calmly exited the room. “Hey--!” He strained against the iron grip upon him. “I said, there's nothing wrong with me!!”
---
TBC