Supernatural Fan Fiction ❯ Asylum ❯ Trapt ( Chapter 23 )

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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.

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Ch. 23: Trapt

“He who fights with monsters should look to it that he himself does not become a monster. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you.” --Friedrich Nietzsche "Beyond Good and Evil", Aphorism 146 (1886)

---

A rapping at the door made Garnet look up from the philosophy book he was trying to read as he reclined upon his bed. He wouldn’t have bothered with such a topic, but he’d been bored one too many times already. Consequently, he discovered that while many of the “great minds” of philosophy seemed full of self-gratified ego stroking (and could also suffer an affliction of meandering verbosity in which they might lose even themselves), Nietzsche had some interesting ideas.

“What do you want?” he called back, irritated at the prospect that he might actually have to get up off of his bed to answer the door. Where was his roommate when he could be making himself useful?

“Garnet?” came the muffled response.

Oh, he recognized that voice. “Why the hell are you knocking? Come in already.”

The door opened with hesitation and Pokey peeked in from around the corner. “You got a second?”

Garnet put his book aside, marking the page with a corner of his sheet. “I guess so.  What’s up with you?” He couldn’t recall his roommate ever knocking to come into their room before. Did he think that he was going to be interrupting something or what?

Pokey was looking around like someone might  have  been following him - all twitchy and nervous - as he shut the door behind him.

Garnet raised a brow in amusement. “What’d you do, steal something off of Dean again?”

Pokey twitched guiltily at hearing his Dean’s name, practically confirming Garnet’s supposition.

“Aw, come on,” Garnet complained. “I told you I’m not gonna cover for you and your stupid compulsions anymore when you get caught.”

Pokey shook his head, surprising him. “It’s something else, G”.

This apparent revelation was not making his roommate look any less twitchy.  “You gonna tell me, or do I have to guess?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you after all,” Pokey said uncertainly. He had the gall to cast glances at the door like he was thinking of darting back through it.

“Like hell,” Garnet said in annoyance, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and pinning his roommate with an interrogative stare. “What’d you do?”

“It’s not-” he started, obviously having difficulty. “Well...  I... sort of  saw something.  Er, heard something... actually.”

“Spit it out.”

“I was... I was passing by Dean’s room and I  heard something.” His voice began picking up speed. “I wasn’t sure what at first, and then I realized that someone was in there with him and they were, um, fucking--”

“Jesus, Lewis,” Garnet said dismissively, picking up his book again. What a waste of time. It was none of his business who fucked whom. Besides, he already had a good idea who the other person would have been. “Now you’re listening in on people--”? he said blandly. Well, good for them, getting a little action. It was about time they got past whatever hang-ups that were making them act so freaking repressed.

“You don’t understand,” Pokey nearly hissed under his breath, making Garnet give him a second glance. He looked like he was going to hyperventilate. “He called them his brother!”

Garnet froze, eyes widening as he realized what this meant.  Jesus. They’re brothers? He quickly swung his eyes back down to his book as the shock hit him, and kept them glued firmly to the printed pages to hide his reaction while he tried to process it.

Everything seemed called into question suddenly, and he felt the need to go over this from the beginning, trying to wrap his mind around it. Between Dean and Ed, anyone having sex in that room would automatically be Dean. The other person would be Sam... Had to be. There was no one else. Dean hadn’t given any guy in here a second glance until Sam came along - he’d always held out for the rare, weak-willed nurse.

And he’d already known for sure now that Dean and Sam had become physically involved - Dean had grudgingly admitted it while holding on to some other secret he refused to tell even upon pain of death. That secret...

That’s why they seemed so similar? They’re actually related?!

But how was that possible? Dean had no contact with the outside. No family visits. How was it that Sam was even brought in as a patient at this hospital? He couldn’t have done it himself, he wasn’t even conscious when he got here, or for some time afterwards. It wasn’t faked. And their names were different. Campbell and Winchester. At the least, they must’ve had different fathers.

So... they’re half brothers?  Or was one of them adopted? He tried to reason it out, as if that really made things so much better.

Shit, Dean. What the hell, man? Garnet bit his tongue, and tried to make sense out of his flickering thoughts. He’d just never seen this coming. This was 9 kinds of fucked up. He didn’t know how to react. And Pokey was looking at him expectantly, anxious for him to say something.

“You sure it was Dean?” Garnet drawled flatly, trying to reclaim the feeling of boredom that had driven him to read the book he was holding so uselessly in his hands right now. What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to think?

“If it wasn’t, he sure had the other person fooled,” his roommate mumbled with a flush rising in his face. He paused. “You think it was Sam?” he asked nervously. “You think that they’re... uh...”

“Lewis, shut your mouth,” Garnet snapped.

“Wha-?” his roommate blinked at him owlishly.

“What do you think is going to happen if something like this gets out and you heard it wrong?”

“But...” Pokey looked taken aback. “I know what I heard.”

Garnet gave him an imperious look. “Oh? Are you sure enough about what you heard that you want to risk it? How can you know without a doubt who you heard or what they were saying while in the middle of something like that?” He shook his head admonishingly and turned a page of the book he wasn’t reading. “You poor bastard,” he said drolly, with an approximation of his old self. “You’ll be on Dean’s hate list for sure if you start making stuff up like this. And Sam - you like him, right? How do you think he’d take that kind of news being spread about him?”

“But--” his roommate protested.

“Lewis, drop it,” he said sharply. This situation was a major problem, a real explosive sort of problem. If anything like this got out... He turned another page, and cultivated looking the perfect picture of bored and annoyed. “You can’t go on speculations. Keep this to yourself.”

A loud knock sounded upon the door, making him jump. Luckily his roommate  missed it as he’d turned towards the source of the noise. A moment later it opened and  Jared was poking his shaved head around the door.  “Oh, am I interrupting something?”

Lewis looked edgy, maybe even like he was bursting with news, but he glanced at Garnet as if in confirmation that he was really not supposed to say anything.

“Nope,” Garnet said, settling back against the pillows he’d jammed into a backrest at the head of his bed. He turned another page of his book, flicking his eyes across the printed lines in a facsimile of reading. He wondered what his late grandmother would have said about all of this. Treat friends like family, never turn your back - this had been drilled into him among many other things. He did it almost like breathing. Easily, most of the time. But this was a hard thing to swallow and he felt uneasy, like he was just going through the motions while he tried to process all of it.

She’d been very wise, and unabashedly unconventional at times, his grandmother. But nothing she’d taught him had quite covered something like this. Covering for them... Was he doing the right thing?

---

“These group therapy sessions are stupid,” Dean complained under his breath as he and Sam walked out of the room with at least twenty others.

He was of a sour disposition at the moment. It seemed more and more like these useless sessions were merely a way to keep them all ‘busy’ and it really cut into their time to look for their father. He was still pissed at his dad for never coming to see him, and had only agreed to look for him for Sam’s sake, but... it had been many days now and Sam’s worry was becoming infectious. What if something had happened? Wouldn’t he regret it later if inaction on his part made things worse?

Maybe his dad was being a dick for not bothering with him all these years, or for meeting only with Sam as he came here, but... he was still his dad. Like it or not, he still cared if the old bastard was ok.  He could be pissed off later, right now the priority was finding him. If he was even here at all.

“Maybe so,” Sam said with a small shrug as they headed toward the cafeteria. “But they aren’t optional, either way,”

“Maybe so?” Dean scoffed. “You think they actually have merit?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” Sam said lightly. “Just looking around, I think that it might be helping some people.” He glanced at Dean with an overly bland look. “Not you, of course. You’re hopeless.”

“I’m not hopeless,” Dean said, cuffing him in the shoulder, “I’m evolved.”

“Riiight.” Sam looked nonplussed. He absently rubbed his arm. “And does your highly evolved state of being require you to pick fights with the therapists every time?”

“I have a right to make them earn their paychecks. Besides, they piss me off.”

“I’m sure they just love you, too.”

“What’s not to love?” Dean responded with a grin.

“Probably everything.”

“Oh really?” Dean drawled, raising an eyebrow as Sam tried to keep straight-faced after saying something like that. He peered at his brother intently, taking up the mini challenge of breaking his stoic expression. He knew it was inordinately difficult for Sam not to react to him, especially when he was right up in his face. “I bet I know someone who doesn’t think that at all,” he said with mock innocence. “Maybe you know him. He’s about this tall,” he gestured to the ceiling well above their heads, taking a dig at Sam’s exceptional height. “Long, sorta girly hair,” he went on as his brother’s jaw locked stiffly. “Kinda prissy expression to his face...” He saw a muscle twitch in Sam’s cheek. One more jab ought to do it...  “Oh,” he said with a conspiratorial leer as he leaned a bit closer, “and just the other night he was saying the damnedest things in my ear while we--”

“All right, all right!” Sam cut him off with exasperation, before he could say something off-color. “You win.”

“Aw, you’re blushing, Sammy,” Dean tormented him with glee.

“Am not,” Sam growled.

“Look, even the tips of your ears are red,” he said, reaching out to touch the curve of one. “The only other time I’ve seen that is when you--”

“Dean,” Sam warned darkly, rubbing his hand over his face.

Heh. Sammy was so cute when he was embarrassed and trying to act like he wasn’t. Dean preened obnoxiously, smiling wide. “You should know better than to challenge the master, boy.”

Sam muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously rebellious.

“I warn you now, I am fully able and willing to take you up on that offer,” Dean said in a low voice. “But,” he leaned closer to add with a smirk, “you wouldn’t be walking right for a week.”

A flush hit his brother’s cheeks almost instantly. “However did you get to be so charming, Dean?” he said sarcastically.

“It’s an innate talent.”

They were nearly at the cafeteria now. “Hey,” Dean said, switching gears abruptly, “you think we should eat separate again today?”

Sam considered. “We’ve been doing that a lot. It should be okay not to, every once in a while.”

“Well, we aren’t supposed to be arch enemies anymore. It should be fine, right?”

“Are your so-called friends going to be giving me the third-degree?” He was inclined to agree, but Dean’s friends made him want to reconsider.

“Maybe. But they’re harmless.” Dean shrugged it off. “Come on, it shouldn’t be too bad, they already figured out that there’s something going on between us. It’s old news.”

“You told them??” Oh, now he really wanted to avoid sitting with the lot of them. They’d been bad enough before they knew anything.

“It was implied.” Dean let out a sigh. “Look, it’s not like you have to. But I just get kind of sick of only seeing you from across the damn room.”

“So you’d rather harass me in person, is that it?” Sam raised an un-enthused eyebrow.

“Of course.” Dean clapped him on the back and shot him a tilted smile. He sensed Sam’s resistance giving way which put him in a triumphantly good mood. Two wins in one day. What was the world coming to?

---

Dr. Walter sat at his desk in the infirmary, turning a small flashlight over in his hands. So innocuous it was like this. Just a device with a function. Nothing more, nothing less.

And yet...

He clicked it on and shone the beam of light across the room where it caught upon a musty ventilation grate near the ceiling.

And yet... such an item, discovered in such a place as it had been... represented nothing but trouble. Someone, and he had a good idea who, had breached the lower levels of the building, leaving their mark, as well as this item - concrete evidence of their passing. Left unchecked, it might be only a matter of time before they ventured too far. Much too far to be tolerated.

Now, who did he know that might take the trouble to ward things off with lines of salt? Who did he know that was resourceful enough to land himself into all sorts of trouble?

Who else... but a Winchester?

The doctor’s face smiled but inside he was seething.  His problem child Dean was out to make a nuisance of himself.  John and little Sammy had the same convenient button to push - that day in the park - which could collapse their psyches like a deck of cards, but Dean... he operated like he had nothing left to lose. He was a challenge. A frustrating challenge. Dr. Walter clicked the flashlight off again brusquely. He was in quite a mood today, so he couldn’t even properly appreciate it. Quite a mood indeed. He couldn’t properly enjoy the game that was afoot. How could he, after he’d learned of John’s little plan to steal the pieces away from him? And after all of the effort he’d expended to ensure things went his way....

Dr. Walter leaned back in his office chair.

It was by a happy coincidence that he learned of Dean through Dr. Kubrick. They discussed patients from time to time, and the case had immediately struck a chord with him. Eventually he’d gotten Kubrick to let slip the name, confirming his delighted supposition that he’d stumbled upon one of John’s relations. With planning and patience he ensured that when Dean was transferred, he came to Oak Grove. Oh, it was Kubrick’s idea, he made sure of that; he’d just planted the seed. For while he was here, he was just an assistant psychiatrist, not one with the authority to make such decisions. It was by design. He’d learned that taking only an assistant level role granted him a lot more freedom and less scrutiny.

It had been flawless. Utterly. Dean had come into his care under the guise of Kubrick overseeing his case remotely, and he could do as he liked. And he had, taking his time cracking the shell of him and scrambling him up inside, extracting things of interest and hearing another dimension of the Winchester family described to him which was most intriguing.

Then, by what seemed to be an unprecedented stroke of luck, the younger son was suddenly brought in, practically hand-delivered by John himself. Oh, the irony of it was precious beyond measure.

It was a near perfect setup that he had right now. It mustn’t be spoiled.

John’s presence, while compelling and nostalgic, was a potential problem. The Winchesters themselves were all potential problems, really, if not handled right. It was the nature of the beast. And that was the little game they played. Cat and mouse. It was a delicate balance that could be upset all too easily.

He swiveled his chair slightly, lost in thought, a frown etched upon his face.

His little trespasser... he knew it was Dean. Sam hadn’t been here long enough to know about the basement, hear the stories, or be able to smoothly obtain the quantity of salt he’d discovered in the passageway. He’d also been out of the family business long enough that he wouldn’t have had cause to traipse about in the dark, looking for things to lay to rest. He also wouldn’t have put any store in the protective attributes of a line of salt, let alone lay one out himself.

Dean, Dean, Dean. He tapped the flashlight against his palm.

It was Dean that was heading up the search for John. It was Dean who would know where to look. And it was Dean who could upset the balance - it was only a matter of time.

Dr. Walter nearly crushed the flashlight within his fist as a sudden fit of ire overcame him. He knew now that John had been planning to liberate his sons from the system. That was his purpose here and what the meetings were about. That was why Sam had been seeing him, despite his repressed rage. First it would be Sam who slipped free, and then, at an undisclosed time, Dean as well.

He wouldn’t allow it.

“I won’t let you have your way, John,” he  murmured under his breath, releasing his hold upon the protesting flashlight. “There is still so much to be done.”

Dr. Walter took in a slow, meditative breath, filling his lungs and slowly releasing it. On another day, he might marvel over the fact that his composure had actually been affected. But he’d been taken by surprise and that did not sit well with him.

No matter, he told himself. The bigger picture was yet unshaken. He’d taken measures already to ensure this. He could always take additional, more drastic measures if need be.

---

“Hey guys,” Dean greeted as he threw a leg over the bench seating and set his tray down with a muted clatter.

“‘Sup,” Garth said around a dinner roll, his head nodding at him like a dashboard bobble-head doll.

“Hi,” Garnet said from the other side of the table. For once, he’d actually gotten himself something to eat. He was currently working on a pile of spaghetti and meatballs. He also had his hair pulled back into a ponytail with the OCD-ish banding of hair-ties down its length which tended to make his face look more severe than normal.

Sam was low-key, looking perfectly at ease as he sat down catty-corner to Dean, but Dean could tell he was watching everyone closely.   

Pokey was there as well, but he was staring into his soup almost fixedly, not looking up. He nodded almost imperceptibly in response to the greeting, then seemed to rouse himself to distractedly eat a spoonful of it.

“Where’s Cue ball?” Dean asked.

“Dunno,” Garth said while finishing off his roll, as no one else seemed inclined to answer. “Gym, I’d expect.”

“Not like him to miss a meal though,” Dean commented as he bit into his grilled cheese sandwich.

“Maybe he discovered what books are for, and what all that fuss over reading was about,” Garnet said blandly.

“For all the time we spend in the library, I can’t say that I’ve ever seen him pick one up,” Dean observed.

“Me neither,” Garth agreed, spearing some green beans on his fork. “But you know what they say, it’s never too late to start.”

“I thought it was more like ‘It’s never too late to quit’, as in smoking, drinking, and the like?” Sam said.

“Meh,” Garth scoffed. “That’s just tripe waved about by people who can’t properly appreciate a good vice.”

“People who act better than everyone else usually have the most to hide,” Dean commented, polishing off his sandwich. “Can’t trust a person who has no flaws.”

Sam was thinking that their dad often acted like he was better, more right than everyone else. And so did Dean at times. But both of them wore their flaws on the edge of their sleeves - so he was thinking, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lewis nod in agreement and it struck him as odd. For some reason he got the impression that the small man was assenting that Dean was the one that could not be trusted or had something to hide.

Sam glanced at Dean, catching the tail end of an expression falling off of his face that he couldn’t quite categorize. From the look of it though, he seemed to think something was amiss.

The silence at the table had a different quality to it than the other times Sam had been with this group. He could just be imagining it, and he didn’t know the others well, but he did know Dean. He had something of a restless look, even if he was hiding it well.

“Hey, Garnet, you can have the rest of this since you’re so hungry today,” Dean said, sliding his bowl of soup across the table. His gaze was steady, as if he were performing some kind of test with this gesture.

Garnet’s eyes flicked up for a moment and he shrugged, twining more spaghetti onto his fork. “I’m not a garbage disposal, I’ll hit bottom on just this.”

“Really?” Dean said, feigning surprise as he rested his elbows on the table, increasing the weight of his stare. “With how you’ve been so intent on your plate, I’d swear you were starving.”

Garnet looked cross as he stabbed a meatball and shoved the loaded fork into his mouth. He spared Dean a deadpan glare while he chewed. It was obvious he didn’t like Dean calling him out on avoiding him. Because that was what Dean was getting at. Garnet wasn’t acting quite right.

“Forget it,” Dean said, getting up. He tossed his napkin down on his tray and got up. “I need to talk to Jared anyway.”

Sam considered what he should do with himself now that he was going to be stuck alone with his brother’s pals while continuing to eat. He couldn’t very well hop up after Dean had vacated the premises and make them look like they were attached at the hip. They’d already encountered trouble from the other patients, just after he’d woken up, for seeming too friendly with each other. That led to fights and fights were to be avoided at all costs. The last thing they needed was either of them being harshly medicated, carted off to solitary, or both.

“It’s nice to see you once in a while, Sam,” Garth said pleasantly, with a slight tick making his hand twitch as he buttered another roll. “Was starting to think you didn’t like us.”

“Oh,” Sam said, shaking his head. “No, it’s nothing like that...” He wracked his brain for something to say, fork drooping in the process. “I’m uh...” what could he say that was believable? Was there some kind of neurosis he could claim that would explain away his behavior without also alienating these people? “I don’t really like people,” he said flatly, the words coming out sounding much worse than expected. That was the best I could come up with?? What the hell is wrong with me? He cursed mentally as Garth stopped buttering his roll mid-stroke and raised an eyebrow. I should’ve said I have a fear of groups or... Or that I’m paranoid as fuck and have trust issues or something.     

“Hear hear,” Garnet agreed unexpectedly. He looked almost maudlin as he doggedly twined more spaghetti upon his fork.

The awkward feeling at the table both dissipated and ratcheted up a few notches.

Garth shrugged to himself, as if shrugging off the matter and finished buttering his roll. “Different folks, different strokes,” he commented pleasantly as if no longer bothered.

“Different strokes,” Pokey muttered to himself. “Ow,” he cursed a second later, head whipping to his left where Garnet was sitting, innocently eating a meatball as if he hadn’t just kicked him under the table.

Garth glanced at them, eyebrows lifting quizzically. “Problem?” he asked.

“Problem?” Garnet repeated blandly. He glanced at his roommate and his eyes had a sternness to them that didn’t match the nonchalance he was exhibiting otherwise. “You got a problem, Poke?” he asked.

“No,” Lewis said, looking away, agitation creasing the skin between his eyebrows.

“He’s probably just sexually frustrated or something,” Garnet said blithely, gesturing vaguely with his fork.

“Ah,” Garth nodded. “Yeah, that would do it.”

Awkward, Sam thought. “On that note,” he said, deeming it a good time to get out of dodge. “I’m going to hit the library.” It was a good an excuse as any. He needed to get a hobby or something here. Dean had the gym, and that had provided plenty of ways for him to excuse himself. Plus, it filled the time.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” Garth told him, “they already pulled the Nudie mags off the shelf.”

“What?” Sam stammered in surprise and some embarrassment. Maybe he shouldn’t have said ‘on that note’ right after the sexually frustrated remark. “I didn’t mean I was going to...”

“Ah, but someone always manages to sneak some back in,” Garnet said knowledgeably. “It’s worth a look,” he added significantly, and Sam got the impression that he was being teased.

“Uh, yeah,” Sam said, now increasingly more uncomfortable and not wanting to continue this line of conversation. He could feel his face threatening to flush, especially as Garnet began to look amused at his expense. “I’ll um... do that,” he said, beating a hasty retreat.

“What’s he need mags for?” he heard Lewis gripe under his breath as he was leaving. “Be a waste of resources-- ow!”

Sam dumped his tray then headed for the cafeteria door, swearing he felt eyes on him. He glanced around covertly as he walked, and there were definitely several people marking his movements. It was more than the usual glance you would give someone as movement caught your eye. It was the kind of gaze that could make you feel hunted.

He kept walking as if he hadn’t noticed, but the hair was standing up on the back of his neck. These people, they struck him as the type to flock together if something caught at them and embroiled them. Some of their eyes had such a cold, inhuman look in them. A blank, dead stare that said they were capable of things that were best not dwelled upon.

Insanity.

It was amazing how little he had really thought of that since coming here. Amazing how much he had really not contemplated it, or how dangerous insanity might make an individual.

Truth be told, if he heard the word ‘insane’ he previously would have had his father or brother spring to mind. But they were both pretty functional on most levels, it was the delusional thinking they’d been labeled with that had landed them here. And many of the others he had encountered in the asylum so far had not seemed too worrisome either. But how about those that were not functional? How about those individuals who were without the internal checks and balances that would keep them from doing horrific things? People that functioned from the darkest part of the human psyche, like serial killers, mutilators, and even cannibals, they would be a very small percentage of the population. So there might not be a concern of that here. And yet even ‘normal’ people could be swayed to behave without empathy or remorse when the right environment was cultivated. Mob mentality could also promote aggressive, irrational behavior. Safety was an illusion. All it would take was the right catalyst.

There was a lot of grey area in the spectrum between psychopathy and sanity. A lot of unpredictable grey, and here in this place it was even more concentrated. If the sane could be swayed to commit atrocities, then the mentally unstable would be even more susceptible, even if they were not normally prone to violence.

He shook his head, but the thought remained. How many people here had the potential to become very dangerous?

Maybe I am paranoid after all.

---

“Hey Winchester,” a voice called out behind Dean in the hall. It was a low tone, and not a friendly one. “Your days are numbered, man.” Dean heaved a deep sigh and made a show of turning around.

“Says who?” Dean responded with a bland, acerbic look. He sort of recognized the guy, having seen him around a few times. Couldn’t have told you his name though. He was Latino, but other than that he didn’t really have any distinguishing features. Just a few tattoos across his largely muscled shoulders. But hell, he couldn’t be bothered to remember everyone he crossed fists with.

“Doesn’t matter,” the man said with laugh that sounded a bit off. Dean suspected he was here for drug rehab. “People are gonna know about you, man. And they don’t like things that is different.”

“Are you done wasting my time?” This guy was about as cryptic as Gordon. Maybe they were friends. In any case, it was annoying.

“Watch your back.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean resisted the urge to knock the guy’s teeth in as he shrugged him off; he didn’t respond well to threats. There wasn’t any reason not to do it, as far as he was concerned, but he was trying to get out of here on good behavior. Best to just walk away.

“More than you watch Sam’s,” the Latino added with a sneer at his back.

Dean stopped mid-step and turned around slowly.

He felt the corner of his mouth drawing up in a sharp smile and his blood stirred with the rushing din of invigoration he felt when he knew he was going to let off steam in a completely unproductive fashion. Consequences lost their immediacy and were easily brushed aside for the moment, no longer hindering him so. Like magic, everything became streamlined and simplified enough to be nearly liberating. “Congratulations,” he said with dark humor, as he took  measured steps back towards his target. “You now have my full attention. I hope you know what to do with it.”

---
TBC

A/N: I almost had a funny typo!

“She’d been very wise, and unabashedly unconventional at times, his grandmother. But nothing she’d taught him had quite covered something like this. Covering for the Wincestors... Was he doing the right thing?”

LOL. Obviously it would be a screw-up because Garnet just got done assuming that they had different fathers so Sam couldn’t be lumped in with Dean and be collectively called “the Winchesters”. But even so, it might be more than a little OOC for someone who is not a fangirl to refer to them as “the Wincestors”. Hahaha. Sometimes typos are hilarious.

A/N2: Chapter title is a deviation. I was in a mood to break the convention I’d took so much time working on and sticking with. So, we have “Trapt” by VTG from the album ‘Beautiful People Look Away’. It’s instrumental. Not all of their stuff is though (Like “Loudly”, “The End” or even “I Lie Pretty” (different album)).

Anyway, I think it’s a pretty good album overall, very dark and atmospheric, with a hint of.... well, I’m not sure how to classify it exactly but Nine Inch Nails has it sometimes in their slower, less radio-played stuff. Like “The Great Below” and “I’m Looking Forward to Joining You Finally” on the album The Fragile. Also the song “And All That Could Have Been” is just... one of my all time favorites (aside from I’m Looking Forward to Joining You Finally). It’s just gut-wrenching, if you really feel what he’s singing. (I’ve seen some amazing AMVs done to that song that’d just rip your heart out.)

Consequently, the singer from VTG reminds me a bit of Trent Reznor with his singing style sometimes. (You can hear it in the song “Drunk” for instance.) If you like NIN at all, you may want to check out VTG. Oh, or the band ‘I Will Never Be the Same.” AWESOME, awesome music there. Listened to their stuff on massive repeat forever.


"I'm Looking Forward To Joining You, Finally"

as black as the night can get
everything is safer now
there's always a way to forget
once you learn to find a way how

in the blur of serenity
where did everything get lost?
the flowers of naivete
buried in a layer of frost

the smell of sunshine
I remember sometimes

thought he had it all before they called his bluff
found out that his skin just wasn't thick enough
wanted to go back to how it was before
thought he lost everything
then he lost a whole lot more

a fool's devotion
swallowed up in empty space
the tears of regret
frozen to the side of his face

the smell of sunshine
I remember sometimes

I've done all I can do
could I please come with you?
sweet smell of sunshine
I remember sometimes