Hospital Beds {A Destiel AU}

Quiet Rivers [Chapter One]

Quiet Rivers Mental Health Facility, 2014

Dean Winchester

Dean's eyes were devoid of emotion as he gazed through the unnecessarily thick glassed window in the small room. The walls were white, as were the sheets, the floor, and his clothing. It was meant to be soothing, his conselor told him. He found it unnerving. The blankness probably held a metaphor somewhere. His college English professor had adored metaphors. "Look at it as life, Dean, full of possiblilities." Mr. Shurley had been full of shit, he now relalized. He thrust his wired glasses up his nose and frowned. He was almost certain that it was visiting day, but he could be mistaken. For all he knew, Sammy had just been there. Dean didn't know anymore. He cast his eyes towards the book in his lap. He had very little entertainment in this place, he was inept at creating friendships alone, especially within the last decade, so his friends were found within the pages of old books.

Placing the book back down, he glanced around the room, crossing his arms and swinging his bowed legs from the window sill he was perched on. It was a standard issue room. 9x9 feet, white bed, white dresser, white chair, and two white shelves for personal items. His own were double-stacked with books. He had a strange mix of interesting fantasies and college textbooks that he had begged Sam to bring him, as if burying his nose in physics would make him less of a freak. The only other personal item he had was an unframed photograph under his pillow. He stared at it from time to time, for hours on occasion, his favorite nurse, Ellen, had told him. The picture was one he had taken of...

His head snapped to the door, his eyes narrowing as it opened and his brother Sam walked in. He looked the same as ever. He was too tall, too broad, with his brown hair too long, and his eyes too sad as he looked at Dean.

"Sammy? That actually you?" Dean inquired. This was what he always asked, as he was never sure with the hallucinations, and sometimes Sam would smile and nod, but other times the mirage would fade, leaving Dean alone again. It was one of the worst effects of his schizophreniza, he couldn't be sure if his eyes were telling the truth or not, and the most often made him believe people he loved and lost were right within reach. But they never were. Ever.

Sam smiled, but again, he looked too sad. "Yeah Dean, it's really me. And I brought Jess and Annie here too, they wanted to see you."

Dean's gaze wandered over to see Sam's wife and young daughter, Jessica and Anna. He smiled, he was almost postitive they were real.

"Hey, Jess, come to see the brother you could've had if he hadn't gone off the rails?"

Jess smiled and rolled her eyes, while the child beamed. Jess had the same sadness as as Sam in her eyes, but Anna was far too young to sense anything wrong about the situation, at 3 and a half. All she knew was that Uncle Dean was sick, as he had been her whole life, since Dean had been admitted to professional care a year before her birth.

The small girl ran forward, and Dean bent down to hug her. His niece was incredibly warm, hair soft, with the same color of Sam's but the thickness of Jess'. She was the most beautiful child in the world, and he was only able to see her once, maybe twice a month. She smiled a toothy grin, gazing up at Dean with adoring hazel eyes as she bubbled out "Is Unca Dee better?"

Dean patted her head gently and replied with a small smile and slight shake of his head.

"Not quite yet, sweetheart, but we're getting there."

Annie frowned and opened her mouth again, but Sam reached forwards to scoop her up. She giggled and buried her face in his frustratingly long hair, previous conversation already forgotten.