Peter Pan&Felix imagines|✔️|

Psychopath(Peter Pan ft. SPN)

"Peter? Peter, are you listening?" Miss Thatcher snapped her fingers in front of Peter's face. Peter blinked out of his daze and drew himself back to reality.

"I was listening." He lied, smiling to add a nice gesture.

Miss Thatcher didn't look pleased. Her red painted lips were pursed and her brown eyes saw straight through his lies.

"Then what did I say?" She asked. Peter gulped and rolled his eyes to the left, trying to recall what Angie had said.

"You were talking about... my... haircut?" Peter guessed. Angie sighed and rubbed her temples as she set her clipboard down.

"Peter... you by far are my worst patient I've ever had." She spoke dryly.

"Well thank you, Angie." Peter said mockingly, placing a hand over his heart as if he was touched by her insult.

"It's Miss Thatcher to you," she corrected him, Peter rolled his eyes. Angie set her pen down on her clipboard and sighed again. "Peter, I mean to say you're having difficulty... trusting me."

Peter scoffed, "How does that make me your worst patient?"

"Because you must trust me to tell me things! You haven't told me anything about your past! You've told me nothing but lies!" Angie said annoyed.

"Well why should I tell you the truth? So you can go blab about it to your friends and what not?" Peter hissed.

"Everything you say is enclosed in this room. I'm not allowed to say anything out of this room." Angie said sternly.

"I. Don't. Have. To. Tell. You. Anything." Peter glared. Angie sighed and picked her clipboard as she scribbled down something.

"Peter. I have talked with your father and we're going to transfer you over to... someone who deals with people more like you." She said, tearing off the sheet of paper she was writing on.

"Who?" Peter asked as he took the paper from her hands and folded it up in his pocket.

"Dr. Winchester, he's a psychiatrist for... problem children."

"First off, I'm not a child. I'm 18. Secondly, I'm not a problem." Peter argued, crossing his arms.

"Peter. You were caught outside of school with drugs and a group of boys vandalizing public property. I'd say that's a problem." Angie pursed her lips again.

Peter groaned and rolled his eyes.

"It was a game! Come on, can't a boy have some fun?!" Peter whined.

"But you just said you weren't a child." Angie clarified.

Peter growled and swept to his feet in a huff, stomping out of the room slamming the door behind him.

~*~

The door to the hospital swung open as Peter marched down the hall.

Peter noticed two men standing at the end of the hall.

They stood side by side and were dressed in white lab coats.

Peter strutted all the way down the hall then stopped in front of the two men. He crossed his arms over his chest like they were and waited.

One man was very tall and had long, dark, brown hair that cut just under his ears. He had hazel eyes and his tag said, "Dr. Samuel Winchester." The other man was shorter than the first but not by much. He had his hair buzzed on the sides and his front bangs gelled up. His eyes were green and his tag read, "Dr. Dean Winchester."

Both men eyed Peter suspiciously and Peter eyed them back.

Dr. Sam reached over to the desk and picked up a clipboard.

"Uh, Peter Gold?" He read of Peter's name.

Peter nodded not breaking eye contact with Dean.

Sam looked at the two of them and scoffed, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder and roughly dragging him off towards the office.

Peter smirked and tucked his hands into his pockets as he followed the two.

~*~

Once they had dressed Peter up like a doll in the itchy white hospital gown, they plopped him down in a wheelchair.

"My legs work perfectly fine you know." Peter said to Dean. Dean growled in response.

The two doctors wheeled Peter down the hall and Peter caught a glimpse of a sign that said 'psychiatric ward'. They turned right and proceed down the hall back to a room and lead him over to another chair.

After Peter sat down, they hooked him up to a scanner and flipped the switch to 'on'.

Peter closed his eyes and gripped the arms of the chair as the shock waves rushed through his body, making him jerk forward and arch his back.

He bit down on his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming, but it was useless.

Peter screamed as loud as his lungs could, his body jerking as the electricity crackled throughout his veins.

"Alright. Cut it, Sam!" Dean yelled at Sam. Sam nodded and flipped the switch off.

The electric surges stopped and Peter's body stilled.

He leaned forward with his head between his legs as he gasped for air.

He felt woozy, unreal even. Peter looked at his hand and wiggled his fingers but couldn't, his hand was already shaking.

He looked over at the doctors as they scribbled things down on their clipboard. Dean noticed Peter first and walked over to him.

He kneeled in front of him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Can you hear me, Peter?" His voice asked distorted. Peter nodded slowly. "Can you speak, Peter?"

Peter opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out, only breathless pants and groans.

Dean sighed and looked into Peter's eyes.

"His eyes are still green. I don't think he's possessed, Sam." Dean said, his voice a bit clearer now.

What? Did he say possessed? Why the hell did he say that?

"So what's with him?" Sam asked Dean. Dean shrugged.

"I guess we'll have a real doctor diagnose him." Dean said, standing to his feet and shedding the lab coat.

I knew they weren't real doctors, but what the hell did they do to me?

~*~

"The test results have come back, kid." the officer said through the slot of the metal door. Peter jumped to his feet and raced to the door.

"What is it?" He asked.

"Sociopath." Was all the officer said before he tossed the papers through the door slot and into the padded cell.

Peter scrambled the papers together and read them one by one.

Sociopath.

Sociopath.

Sociopath.

Sociopath.

Peter crumpled up the pieces of paper and tossed then in a corner of his cell.

He looked down and noticed a letter that he had not yet read.

Jan. 13, 1997

That was last weeks date, this is recent!

Peter James Gold is hear by marked a...

Psychopath.

Peter angrily shredded the paper and threw the remains in the air, letting it float to the ground as he curled up in a ball and sobbed.