Church Channel


Age Rating:

Chapter 1

Genres: Angst, hurt-comfort

Rating: Hard R, soft NC-17

Pairing: Dean/Cas(main), also Dean/Jimmy, Dean/Leviathan, Dean/Emmanual, Dean/Godstiel, one-sided Dean/Misha. Sam/Jessica and mentions of Cas/Meg and Dean/Lisa

Warning: Mentions and/or depictions of self-harm, suicide (attempts), addictions, rape, sexual abuse, pathological lying, eating disorders, PTSD, ASPD, pyromania, Windigo psychosis, child abuse, cheating, DID (multiple personalities), abuse of doctor privilege, Borderline Personality disorder, stalking, depression, torture, war, homophobia, murder

AN: Having said that the story isn't as depressing as the amount of warning might imply, I just figured it would be better to over-warn.

AN2: If you think I'm misrepresenting something PM with your concerns, I'm actually quite concerned with accurate representation.

Warner's Mental Hospital

Name: Dean Winchester

Date of Birth: January 24, 1979

Place of Birth: Lawrence, Kansas

Occupation: Mechanic, Soldier

Diagnoses: Post-traumatic Stress Disorder

Onset of symptoms: September, 2008

Homicidal: _ Suicidal: x [one possible attempt on May 2, 2011] Smoker: _

Emergency Contact: Sam Winchester (brother)

Date of Discharge: _

Date of Re-Admission: _

"This is so stupid," Dean growled. "I should have taken the jail time."

"Come on Dean, it doesn't look so bad," Sam tried to reassure his brother, who slouched in his chair and tried to ignore everyone and everything around him. The front office was painted a pale blue and plastered with motivational posters. Once she noticed their presence, the secretary greeted them with a warm smile and buzzed the people upstairs that they had arrived. "I'll visit you."

"Sure you will," Dean snorted. "I'm sure you'll make the two hour drive every weekend. Bring the wife, we'll have a freakin' family picnic."

"Of course Jess will come, she's worried about you too." Dean glared at him, but the elevator doors dinged and opened before he could argue with his brother anymore. A man and a woman in white coats stepped out. They exchanged a few hushed whispers and one tapped her clipboard before they looked over at the brothers. The man walked over to the secretary while the woman made her way over to them.

"Dr. Kripke is grabbing some documents for you to sign, Mr. Winchester, and then we can give you a tour of the facilities." She smiled down at Dean and held out her hand. "I'm Dr. Candace Hill, I'll be your–"

"Yeah, you're the one that gives me happy pills, signs the release forms, and then sets me loose on all those innocent bystanders in six freaking months."

"Dean! You're not making this any easier, just give it a chance," Sam groused, frowning at his older brother.

"Mr. Winchester, six months is just a guide line, it might not be that long."

"Or maybe it's the rest of my life."

"I doubt that." She gave a tired smile and slipped out of her professional voice and into something more natural. "Your insurance wouldn't cover it."

The tour of the building was even more boring than Dean had thought. The doctors showed him the first few floors, even though it was obvious patients weren't allowed there. Everything needed a key card to be opened — it seemed even when things were normal they were still on constant lock down. Floor four was lined with rooms and number twenty-six was his, a worn bed and a night table on one side and a small dresser on the other. He looked into the tiny bathroom, which was, fortunately, reserved solely for him, as Sam dropped his bag on the bed and talked to Dr. Hill. A small plastic mirror and shower with no curtain rod or shower-head, only a small metal knob that dripped water down from the ceiling. Dean guessed they must have stamped suicide risk all over his file.

"Dean," Sam came up behind him and snapped him out of his thoughts. "I have to go, Dr. Hill is going to show you the rest of the place."


"Look, it wouldn't kill you just to give it a chance." Sam put his hand on Dean's arm but he just shrugged it off. They stood in silence forgetting Dr. Hill was still in the room, Dean waiting for Sam to leave and Sam waiting for Dean to get his head out of his ass. After a few minutes Sam realized that Dean was going to make things as difficult as possible, and he couldn't help the tired sigh that escaped him. "Fine Dean, do whatever you want. I'm going home."

As much as Dean was still pissed, angry at the doctors, the judge, the cop, that man, he couldn't ever stay mad at Sam. And watching him walk away, maybe never to return again, a part of him hissed, Dean let out a heavy sigh of his own and stopped Sam at the door. "Just… just tell Jess I say hi."

Sam smiled at him and nodded before Dr. Kripke led him back down to the bottom floor. As much as Dean wanted to run after him and beg not to be left in this hell hole, he knew it wouldn't do any good. It was either this or jail. He remembered Bobby yelling at him, saying he was damn lucky he even had a choice because most people wouldn't. He sure as hell was glad his dad wasn't alive to see him end up in a place like this.

Dr. Hill offered to take him to the rec room so he could meet the other 'guests,' like this was some kind of resort instead of a full-security crazy house. And, quite frankly, Dean didn't really want to meet any of them — he didn't belong here dammit — but he figured he needed to play nice. The rec room wasn't anything fancy, just a gray room with a set of swinging doors to separate it from the doctors' offices.

"Group therapy is split up into two groups, A and B. Group B is in session right now, so it'll be a bit more quiet in the rec room than usual." She waved over a girl with long wavy hair who seemed to be sorting several boxes of crayons into colour groups. "Meg will show you around. I'll let you get used to the place first, so we won't have any therapy sessions today or tomorrow. Does that sound good?"


Dean could tell that the girl, Meg, was checking him out as she walked over, smirking without reserve once she stopped in front of the doctor. "What's up, Doc?"

"Meg, this is Dean Winchester, he'll be staying with us for a bit." Dean supposed that sounded better then 'a court decided he was too crazy to be around normal people so they had him locked up.' "Would you take him around to meet the others?" Without waiting for an answer, Hill looked at Dean and continued, "I'll be seeing you soon, Dean," before walking away.

"Mm, fresh meat," Meg grinned as soon as the doctor was out of ear shot and stepped into Dean's personal space. He felt her chest just barely rub against him. "You're gonna hate it here, everyone does. Come on, I'll introduce you to the other whack-jobs."

She pulled him further into the room, past a man clad in a trench coat who was playing chess with himself and a girl curled up on the couch watching television. She didn't bother telling him who they were. The place was surprisingly clean, not like he had been expecting, but there was a line separating the room in half like someone had scribbled a bright red permanent marker across the floor. A group of people sat at a table playing cards, and Meg pulled a chair up for Dean but didn't sit down herself. He looked down at the chair and felt everyone's eyes on him, as if they were waiting for him to freak out and cause a scene. He raised his hand to pull the chair closer but another hand suddenly wrapped firmly around his wrist, and before Dean knew what was happening, he was being dragged back to the other side of the room.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on buddy, what are you doing?" He asked, ripping his wrist out of the strangers grasp and glaring.

"I saved you," the man said, looking quite pleased with himself over it. Dean realized that this was the same man who had been playing chess with himself before.

"You what? Who are you?"

"I'm Castiel. I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."


"Hell," he clarified, his voice rough with annoyance, and pointed over to the group of people on the other side of the red line.

"Uh, okay... I was actually doing fine over there."

"You don't think you deserved to be saved?" Castiel's head tilted to the side and his blue eyes bore into Dean. He stiffened at the accusation, coming from a total stranger who knew nothing about him.

"I didn't say that," he growled. Castiel stepped forward, now standing less then two inches from him, his breath hot against Dean's cheek and his eyes still narrowed with mild confusion.

"Come, we have much to discuss." Then Castiel grabbed him again and pulled him down the hall before Dean had the chance to argue. The patients behind him burst out in knowing laughter as they watched the two men disappear behind the swinging door. Castiel dragged him to the stairway, the only actual door that could be opened without a key card, finally letting him go when the door slammed shut behind them.

"I've been waiting for you."

Dean didn't answer. His throat felt too tight to speak, his hands were suddenly sweaty, and he felt like he was on fire. He didn't remember the stairway being so goddamn small, and the walls just kept getting closer and closer and Castiel was standing between him and the door, still going on about demons and Hell and some other bullshit. He turned, muscles tense and ready to run up the stairs back to the safety of what was now his room, but Castiel wrapped a hand tight around Dean's bicep and pulled him back. He acted without thinking, kicking a leg out and hitting Castiel hard enough that he let go of Dean, who quickly turned back around and grabbed hold of the man's beige coat, shoving him back into the stone wall. Castiel's eyes went unfocused and he hissed, the sound snapping Dean out of his attack and he let go of Castiel, who stumbled a bit but remained standing. He looked at Dean with a confused, still blurry stare and watched him as he rushed out the door.

Dean slammed his hands against the wall and leaned his forehead against it, breathing heavy and heart beating so fast he thought his chest might burst. The door behind him opened and closed but Dean ignored it, ignored Castiel as he stood behind him silently observing the man who had just attacked him.

"You are not yet ready to return to earth," Castiel sighed and walked closer to Dean who lifted his head only slightly, looking at Castiel over the edge of his arm. The man did not meet Dean's gaze, only ran his eyes up and down Dean's body before he nodded to himself, as if coming to some sort of agreement with himself. "You are very important, and you can be saved, but first I will need to fix you."

"Well," Dean snorted as his pulse finally began to slow, "you're going to be at that for a long time."

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