The Other Side of Reality

Part 2

Warnings: Angst, mentions of mental illnesses and slight mention of suicide attempt. 

Taking your empty dishes to the counter, you followed Dean out of the cafeteria. Aware of the guards gaze following you the entire time. Feeling like this wasn't allowed. That you were breaking the law. Even though it was nothing more than a trip to the library to listen to Dean's stories.

"It is wrong," the voice in your head jeered, barely there with the medicine filtering through your system. But enough that you still had the nagging thoughts in your mind that you refused to go away.

Rubbing your wrist across the scars that were a painful reminder, you turned back to see the attendant watching you closely, his eyes narrowing when Dean stepped closer to you.

"That attendant. I don't trust him," Dean spoke up, moving so you were in front of him, out of the attendants view.

"I don't like him," you whispered as the voice in your head reminded you that nobody liked you. Not even Dean. He was just relieved that he had someone to tell his crazy stories to.

Dean guided you to the back of the library, away from prying eyes. To what seemed like his little spot of privacy. Settling down across from him, you noticed the burnt book still clasped tightly in his hand. A hand that was marred with old burn marks. The skin was red and angry looking, and you wanted to ask him what had happened. But you knew that in an asylum you didn't ask questions like that.

"Where would you like to start?" You asked instead, watching the nervous way his hands picked at the brittle leather.

"My brother died!" He blurted, the pain in his eyes making it seem like the death had been recent.

"I'm so sorry to hear that," you answered.

"After everything we had been through, Sammy died trying to save me," Dean continued, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I always thought I would go before him but...,"

"Is that why you're in here?" You asked him.

Hastily wiping away the tears, he nodded. "I was in the hospital for quite some time. I guess I had trouble coping, and they sent me here."

"Tell me about your brother."

A soft smile appeared on his face for a moment, taking away the pain as he remembered better times. "You would have loved Sammy. He was tall, even taller than me. He had this shaggy mop of hair, princess hair I used to tease. He was smart, and actually went to Stanford."

You waited patiently as he paused for a moment. Taking a deep breath, he continued. "Nobody believes me now, but Sammy and I? We traveled the country, hunting monsters."

"Like vampires?"

"Exactly!" He exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. "And ghouls, and Demons and werewolves. We were the best. We even caged Lucifer."

"Sounds like a tough life," you said while wondering what his life had really been like before this. If it had been so bad that he had created this fantasy world.

"It was," he sighed, his shoulders slumping once again. "My mom died in a fire when I was four. We traveled with my Dad, who hunted as well."

By this time the voices in your head had quieted down, your entire body heavy and lethargic. You hated these pills, and how tired they always made you feel. Like your head was filled with cotton balls, much heavier than normal. Resting your head on your hand, you tucked your feet underneath you, turning your attention to Dean.

His book was forgotten in his lap as he continued to talk. Telling you about how Sam had left to go to Stanford, leaving Dean all alone. You could see how much it bugged him, even to this day. "I should have left him there," Dean muttered, pulling your attention back to him.

"Why?" You hesitated asking. You weren't sure what would trigger Dean, and you didn't want to push this new found friendship away.

"I should have left him to become a successful lawyer. He would have been happy with Jess, living a normal life. Not the pain filled hunting life that took him too soon."

"Dean, I wasn't there, but I don't think it was your fault," you tried telling him, even though you knew how he felt. How everything was always your fault. It had certainly felt that way when your fiance left you for another woman.

"It's always my fault," he snapped before seeming to realize where he was. "I was older. I was told to take care of him. And I failed."

You could hear people moving around the library, classes no doubt getting ready to start for the day. Your therapy session was starting soon, but you didn't want to leave Dean yet. It was the first time in five years that you had felt alive. You finally had someone to talk to, even if he was telling you these made up stories. He needed you. And you needed him.

"There you are!" The nice female attendant, Tonya exclaimed, coming forward. "Y/N, Dr. Hoskins is waiting for you."

"Where's Dr. Triven?" You asked her, refusing to move.

"Dr. Triven no longer works here. Dr. Hoskins is your new Doctor, and he can't wait to me you."

"What if I don't want to go?" You asked her, even though you knew the answer, and you knew you wouldn't like the consequences.

"Y/N, we've talked about this. It's only for an hour, and then you can come back to your....friend."

"We can talk later," Dean assured you. "I wouldn't want you to get into trouble because of me."

Sighing, you stood up, following Tonya down the hallway. "I see you're trying to make friends with Dean Winchester," Tonya tried to strike up conversation. You stayed quiet.

"He is handsome," she continued. "But I want to warn you. He has anger issues, and as you know...he's in here for a reason."

"As am I," you said curtly, pushing past her into the Doctor's office. Shutting the door in her face, you sat down with a smile on your face.

"Hello there Miss Y/L/N," the Doctor said, not even looking up from his notes. "I'm glad we're getting to meet. I hope that we can work together to help you."

"I just want out of here," you mumbled."

He seemed to not even hear your words. Checking his notes, he finally looked up, his silver eyes peering closely at you. "I've heard that you're trying to make friends. That's good to hear."

"Why can't I have a friend? Or a little privacy in this place?" You mumbled. The voices in your head were worse enough, but knowing that your every move was being monitored was going to drive you over the brink.

"Calm down Y/N," the doctor ordered. "I think it's just a good step towards recovery."

"What if I don't recover? What if the voices never go away?"

"Are they there now?" He asked, crossing his arms as he stared your way. With his thin face, gray hair perfectly combed over and colorful sweater, he reminded you a lot of Mr. Rogers. Without the nice personality.

"No, the medicine is working. But I hate how it makes me feel."

"Better than the voices telling you to kill yourself," he argued. "Now, I want you to be careful around this Dean. He is a dangerous man. If you believe in his stories, you're making life for him that much harder."

"What if his stories are true?" You argued, just for spite. But there was a nagging sensation in the back of your mind that there was more to Dean than you knew.

"They aren't!" The Doctor exclaimed, his eyes lighting up with frustration. "They are just his way of coping. He had a very hard life, and his brother's death was the thing that did him in."

"I just...,"

"I think this session is over. I'm suggesting that they up your medication. You will also have an attendant with you at all times. Of course to make sure that you are safe while spending time with Dean. I'll assign Devon to you."

An image flashed in your mind. Of the attendant who had woken you up this morning. His nametag had read Devon.