Saving The Winchesters

Chapter 2

'What an asshole.' Dean thought to himself as he strode on purposefully towards the cafeteria, in the opposite direction of the walking fashion disaster.

He paused as he came to the doorway leading into the room, leaning against the frame. He was astonished at the sight of the people inside.

Although it wasn't that crowded, that just seemed to make the entire scene that much more prominent. One woman in the back was rocking slowly in her chair, muttering to herself and at random intervals, releasing a shrill shriek. Another was crying silently in the middle of the room with an orderly bent over her and rubbing the older woman's back. The worst, however, was a young man, around Sam's age give or take a few years, staring blankly out the window. Just like the younger Winchester had moments ago.

It might not have been so bad, except for the fact that a young, and admittedly beautiful, girl was sitting next to him. Although Dean was still standing in the door frame, he could tell that the girl was visibly upset. She would place her hand on the boy's shoulder, maybe giving a gentle shake, and then slowly have to remove it. Her presence elicited no response whatsoever from him, and that was probably the most heartbreaking thing Dean could think of.

He felt an uncomfortable prickling sensation behind his eyes and scolded himself for it. Because he'd be damned if he was going to cry in the middle of a nuthouse cafeteria. John Winchester's son? As if. Besides, there was no real reason to be upset anyway. He didn't know these people. He didn't want to know these people. Having to visit here week after week, month after month, and try and notice all the sadness was practically driving him up a wall. Where were the superheroes that could come to places like this and just help these people. If Dean were a hero, he would save as many lives as he could. But he wasn't. He wasn't four years old trying to rescue his mom from the monsters in her mind anymore. He was grown up and far wiser than he used to be.

He was still just as useless though, that's one thing his dad never let him forget.

He turned around, losing his appetite entirely, and trudged back to his brother's room. He wasn't even in the mood to give his infamous, "Hi-I'm-Dean-Winchester-and-I-am-giving-you-bedroom-eyes", look to an attractive orderly he passed in the hallway.

When he finally reached the correct room, he sighed and rubbed his face. He was not an emotional guy, anybody that had ever met him could tell you that much, but this place was like an emotional drain. There's only so many times you can see your legally crazy sibling before it really starts to wear down on the psyche. And currently, Dean was wearing down.

But if Dean finally broke, and didn't come anymore, who would? John had never plucked up enough courage to come see Sammy at all. And while Mary had stopped by occasionally in the beginning, Dean imagined that seeing his brother this way was pretty bad, but it was a hell of a lot worse to see your youngest son like that.

He shook himself out of his negative thoughts and pushed open the door. He felt his chest squeeze at the sight before him for the second time that day, but for an entirely different reason. Sammy was still lying in bed, but now he was being straddled by the mysterious trench coat man. The man had one hand firmly gripped over his brother's mouth, while the other was stretched out, almost as if he was trying to grasp his forehead.

Dean hesitated one more second before he flung himself at the coated man, knocking him off Sam's prone body. He wrestled him to the pristine white ground and held his hands tightly to the floor, Dean's hips straddled across the man's stomach like the stranger had been positioned moments before on the other brother.

"What the hell do you think you're doing." Dean hissed, his teeth gritted. "What the hell were you trying to do to my brother?"

The other man's blue eyes calmly met Dean fierce green ones. He even had the nerve to smile at him!

"Do not worry, I was sent here to help and only to help. I was only intending to heal your brother, no harm would have come to pass on his behalf."

"Oh, is that right?" Dean spat. "Just trying to help? Then why were you holding him down? Because I'll just tell you, I've had a very bad day today, and I'm considering breaking every bone in your god damned body. So enlighten me, why should I have you sent to the hospital instead of the morgue?" He growled out the last part, his voice dangerously low.

The man simply gave Dean another dopey smile and breathed out, "Because my name is Castiel. And I am an angel of the Lord."