Chapter 2
The red and blue light washes over them like rain promising to take their pain away,but Dean knows better than to relinquish what little control he has over the situation to a couple of cops.With blood dripping down his cheeks ,Dean reaches for his brother in the passenger seat.
‘Sammy?’ Dean whispers ,but there is no sign of counsciousness .He draws a breath in, trying to pull himself together.Everything’s fine.Everything’s good. ‘Sam?’he calls again ,shaking him lightly,praying to God that his brother can hear him.Still no answear.He shakes him again,panic starting to sweal up in his gut.What if he…?No.He can’t be.I won’t let him.He concentrates on his breathing to keep out the bad thoughts so he doesn’t lose it .’Sam.’Nothing. ‘Sammy?’No answear. No.Not now.No. ‘Sam!’ Dean shouts this time,but that doesn’t change a thing.There is so much blood.So much blood.Sam is coverd in blood.Dean can see the wounds on his face even though Sam is facing the other way.His clothes are bloody.He can stand this image he can’t.
‘Please.’ He whispers again,voice cracking in the middle of the word. ‘Come on,Sam.’ Now Dean knows that this is not good and the bad feeling he had turns into full on panic as he starts to scream for his little brother.
A bright white light flashes over him and from there is just glimpses of the scene , short images that manage to scare him to death.Blood.Screams that are mostly his calling for Sam.Everything’s more blurry now.Broken glass everywhere.Blood stained glass.Silhouettes.People talking and moving fast, too fast for Dean to keep up with them.His dad bloody.Body bag.The car turned upside down .The road stained with blood.Oh God so much blood.And pain.Dean is hurting.Hurting so bad.He can't really register where the pain is coming from but he sure as hell feels it.He can hear some voices but all he can do is nod or shake his head.His body feels heavy but at the same time he’s lightheaded.He wants so bad to sleep so he can float into nothingness alone,away from this gory nightmare.His wish is about to get granded as he loses his grip on reality little by little.
‘Sam!’ he screams one more time before giving in to the darkness.
Dean wakes up with a gasp.It takes him a minute or so before he realizes where he is and becomes aware of his surroundings.Another fucking nightmare.Great.He groans looking at the bedside clock that informs him that it is 4:07am.He can still sleep.His appointment with the shrink is at 9.There’s plenty of time, but he knows he’s not gonna’ fall asleep again and that still doesn’t stop him from trying.He takes a swing of whiskey and flops back down on the matress.So he just stares at ceiling remembering the better days when everything wasn’t fucked up,but fe fails tragically at entertaining himself so after about two and a half hours he gets out of bed to take a morning shower.He dresses in the same hoodie and sweatpants as the other day and goes out the door planning to take a so called morning walk before heading to the therapist to officially start his day.Awesome.
-------—-————-—--—----------—-----——------————————
As soon as he finds himself outside the shrink's door , he suddenly stops.All the courage and self confidence draining away faster than you can say 'crazy'.Dean hates feeling like this, powerless.Being in that room with that man makes him feel like this.Exposed.Vulnerable.Like he and his past are butt-naked in front of 'Dr. Castiel Novak'-douchy therapist,or so the tiny plaquete of iron that is stuck to his door says( not really though,but Dean likes to imagine that the little thingy on his door tells the truth).
He checks his phone : currently 9:06 in the morning , no new calls or messages. He's probably late enough to seem like he doesn't give a shit about all this but nothing that serious that'll get Castiel to call Ellen.Again.He feels like a freaking third grader.
He opens the door slowly , carefully , as if trying to maintain the quiet atmosphere , but in reality he couldn't care less if he disturbed Castiel.The first thing he sees is the therapist buried in a pile of notebook and files and lonly pages scattered across the floor.The desk and everything in a 10 Inch radius is a mess and Castiel doesn't look much better.He's writing something franatically in a notebook,which could seem like a life and death matter in the eyes of an outsider.Who knows?Maybe it is.
Dean clears his throath as he closes the door.'Hey.'
Only then Castiel raises his head from the papers to see Dean standing there ,unsure of what he should do first.A shred of surprise flicks across his face but it's gone just as fast before Dean can make anything of it.
'Hello, Dean.' comes a gruff voice in response.As if that was his que, Dean goes to sit in one of the black leather chiar for the patients .
'How are you today?'Castiel asks,while he lifts a stack of papers placing them on the floor,looking more serious than ever,but Dean can't help but chuckle.At his response , the therapist tilts his head slowly with a confused frown on his face.
'Did i say something wrong?'he questions looking slightly less tense.Wrong?No.Fucking hilarious?Hell yeah.Now he remembers why he felt so stupid.Does this guy think he can ask how he feels and fake a little concern and Dean would just roll over and spill all his thoughts and secrets?Yeah,wrong.
There are so many things going on in Dean’s head, between trying not to give Castiel a piece of his mind about his stupid therapeutic tactics that don't intimidate Dean in the least and trying to not storm out again laughing at the guy all the way to his motel room, it all feels like a blur.So he does what every other matur adult would do in a situation like his, he ignores Castiel and procedes to tap his fingers on his leg, waiting for Castiel to humor him again.
When the other questions Dean’s waiting for never come,he starts checking the office for a clock to let him know how long he has to bite his tongue for.The room itself is quite large,the color of the walls somehow comforting,much better than white walls, white floor,white furniture and the unforgetable white doctor coat that Castiel doesn’t seem to own.It’a actually kind of relaxing, Dean thinks to himself.One thing this guy got right.Maybe if i stare enough at the floor i can fall asleep with my eyes open.He scans the room.Bookshelves on every wall, except for the one behind Castiel,where there are a couple of framed diplomas.’Best therapist of the year’ one piece of paper read.It was the one that was nailed on the wall the highest.Yeah,best therapist, my ass.Dean points his attention to the floor,no rugs or anything,except the one under the little table in the back of the room.Next to the coffee table there’s a brown leather couch that Dean would die to nap on,but now he has another ‘mission’ to take care of.
After Dean is sure he eye-searched all of the room,he comes to the conclusion that Castiel doesn’t have a clock.He has wrist watch but Dean can’t see the time so it’s practically useless.The therapist is still writing in his notebook like Dean isn’t even in the room watching him , which kind of pisses him off.If this is a game to him,then he could be the second player.He pulls out his phone from the jacket’s front pocket.9:17.This is gonna take some time and with Dean’s sleepiness so far away he thinks he could play some games to help the time pass.That’s when Castiel speaks again.
‘I’d appreciate if you would put your phone away,please.I’m trying to keep a relaxing enviorment and i don’t believe using your phone as a distraction during our sessions would be very healthy for either of us.’Then procedes writing leaving Dean only with the echo of his words.But then again , two can play this kind of game.
‘Yeah well, you don’t have a single clock in here.How am I supposed to know what time is it?’ Dean said trying to keep his words even.Maybe he was trying to intimidate the man.Just maybe.
With a heavy sight, Castiel stops and places his pen next to his notebook.Then he threads his fingers like he’s preparing for a big speech.Dean doesn’t even know what to expect from Castiel so he watches closely his every movement.
‘Time is very fluid,Dean.What seems like hours to you, to me may seem like minutes, so I don’t see the point in you checking the time every ten minutes.’Dean shrugged and met Castiel’s gaze with a kind of shyness that he hadn’t felt in a long time.It felt really intimidating for Dean to practically have a staring contest with the guy, but it also felt kind of pure, refreshing energy washing all over him like rain during summer.For the first time since he met the guy, Dean looked at him, really looked at him.Those blue eyes like the sky in contrast with slightly tan skin and dark hair made him shiver.He could look at him a whole day and not get bored observing little details of Castiel’s face.Dean’s thoughts were interrupted by the shrink’s next statement.
‘I know you don’t want to be here and I know you don’t want to talk to me because it makes you feel weak.I also know that you’re coming here because of Ellen , who practically forces you.’ There was a pause when Castiel started fiddling with his papers again, bending random corners and doing everything in his power to avoid Dean’s eyes. ‘But I, for one,can not and will not force you to tell me anything, but as long as you are in my office I’m going to ask you to behave even if all we’re doing is sitting at this table.’Finally,Castiel inhaled and held the breath in for a few seconds before exhaling.He knew he was being harsh with Dean but if he wasn’t going to talk then Castiel will fill in the silence.
Dean was stunned.Ask you to behave?!Is this guy for real?!There it was, the anger again.Dean felt like his insides were boiling and he was going to explode if he didn’t calm down .He couldn’t leave again ,that was for sure, nor could he swear at the guy and trash his office until he got kicked out.He wanted to punch him so bad ,give him a shiner for days ,but as appealing as that sounded, Dean refrained.He ended up giving Castiel his famous death glare and fantasizing about kicking things and punching stuff until the hours were over.
Time has never passed slower.