Tag to Asylum (1x10)
To view Deanna Winchester's Wardrobe go to Polyvore and then add this to the end of the URL /deanna_winchester/set?id=129966029
Looking around in the basement of the Asylum, Deanna walked down the corridor. "Sammy? Sam, you down here? Sam? Sam!" Turning round, Sam was stood in front of her. Jumping back in shock, she raised her shotgun. "Man, answer me when I'm calling you! I could've shot you!" Deanna scorned before taking a deep breath. "You alright?"
"Yeah. I'm fine.
"You know it wasn't me who called your cell, right?" She stated.
"Yeah, I know. I think something lured me down here." Sam nodded.
"I think I know who. Dr. Ellicott. That's what the spirits have been trying to tell us. You haven't seen him, have you?" Deanna asked.
"No. How do you know it was him?" Sam furrowed an eyebrow.
"Cause' I found his log book. Apparently he was experimenting on his patients, awful stuff. Makes lobotomies look like a coupla' aspirin." She explained.
"But it was the patients who rioted."
"Yeah. They were rioting against Dr. Ellicott. Dr. Feelgood was working on some sort of, like, extreme rage therapy. He thought that if he could get his patients to vent their anger then they would be cured of it. Instead it only made them worse and worse and angrier and angrier. So I'm thinking, what if his spirit is doing the same thing? To the cop? To the kids in the seventies, making them so angry they become homicidal... Come on, we gotta find his bones and torch 'em." She smiled.
"How? The police never found his body." Sam stated.
"The log book said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he'd work on his patients. So, if I was a patient I'd drag his ass down here, do a little work on it myself."
"I don't know, it sounds kinda..."
"Crazy?" Deanna finished.
"Yeah." Sam nodded.
"Yeah. Exactly." Opening the door, Deanna gestured with her head for Sam to follow before walking inside the room.
"I told you I looked everywhere. I didn't find a hidden room." Sam stated.
"Well, that's why they call it hidden..." I stopped, hearing the sound of wind blowing. "You hear that?"
Looking around, Deanna crouched and held her hand out. "There's a door here."
Hearing the sound of a gun cocking, Deanna turned slowly to see Sam stood with his gun aimed at her. Blood was trickling from his nose.
"Step back from the door." He stated sternly.
Deanna slowly rose to her feet, her eyes going to her brother's gun. "Sam, put the gun down."
"Is that an order?" Sam asked.
"Nah, it's more of a friendly request.
Sam raised his gun so that it was aimed at Deanna's chest. "Cause' I'm getting pretty tired of taking your orders."
Something was wrong with Sam. "I knew it. Ellicott did something to you."
"For once in your life, just shut your mouth." Deanna knew that Sam would never talk to her like that if Dr. Strange hadn't of screwed with his head.
"What are you gunna' do, Sam? Gun's filled with rock salt. It's not gunna kill me." Deanna stated.
"No. But it will hurt like hell." Sam stated.
Deanna furrowed an eyebrow but before she could comment, Sam pulled the trigger. The bullet struck Deanna in the chest. The force of the blast sent her falling backwards through the hidden door before she fell to the floor on her back, knocked unconscious as her head hit the stone floor.
When Deanna finally came to, she gasped for breath. Coughing and wheezing, Deanna sought out her brother. "Sam! We gotta burn Ellicott's bones and all this will be over, and you'll be back to normal."
Sam walked closer and stood over her. "I am normal. I'm just telling the truth for the first time. I mean, why are we even here? 'Cause you're following Dad's orders like a good little solider? Because you always do what he says without question? Are you that desperate for his approval?"
"This isn't you talking, Sam." Deanna winced as she moved slightly.
"That's the difference between you and me. I have a mind of my own. I'm not pathetic, like you."
Deanna tried to block out her brother's harsh words. "So what are you gunna do, huh? Are you gunna kill me?" She asked in a gruff tone.
"You know what, I am sick of doing what you tell me to do. We're no closer to finding Dad today than we were six months ago." Sam stated.
"Well, then here. Let me make it easier for you." Taking out her shotgun, Deanna held it out to Sam. "Come on. Take it. Real bullets are gonna work a hell of a lot better than rock salt."
Taking the gun off her, Sam pointed the gun at his sister.
"You hate me that much? You think you could kill your own sister? Then go ahead. Pull the trigger." Deanna paused. "Do it!" She shouted.
Sam pulled the trigger, furrowing an eyebrow as nothing happened. He tried again and again but still no shot fired.
Using the opportunity, Deanna swung a right cross to knock her brother to the ground before she slowly clambered to her feet, fighting the pain that roared through her chest. "Man, I'm not going to give you a loaded pistol!"
Sam stared up at her.
Deanna then delivered another right cross to knock him out, stumbling as she did so. She then patted Sam on the arm. "Sorry, Sammy."
Back at the motel later that night, Deanna was sat in the bathroom in her black bra and pyjama bottoms with one of Sam's oversized, burgundy plaid shirts, unbuttoned and hanging open from bony shoulders, propped up against the wall. Holding an ice pack to her throbbing chest, she winced.
There was a knock at the bathroom door.
"Deanna..." Came Sam's voice.
"I'm fine, Sam. Go away." She answered.
Deanna heard the sound of the door creaking slightly, indicating that Sam must have slid down the door and sat down against it.
After a further few seconds of silence...
Deanna sighed as she heard Sam's saddened, tearful tone. It was obvious that the guilt was eating at him.
"...I didn't mean the stuff I said..." He paused. "...honestly I didn't..." He sighed. "And then I shot you..."
'Which time?' Deanna thought. Her little brother had effectively shot her four times. But she didn't say anything.
Nausea came over her as she had to throw herself towards the toilet, ignoring the pain that was searing through her chest. Deanna collapsed against the cold rim of the bowl as she dry retched. "Gah..." Screwing her eyes closed against the pain, Deanna wrapped an arm around her stomach.
She then heard the door click behind her before a hand was placed gently on her shoulder.
Deanna wanted to shrug it off, but didn't as she allowed it to help her down to the floor, before she leant back against the wall once again.
Sam sat down next to her before digging into his pocket and pulling something out. "Peace offering?" He held out a box of Tylenol.
Deanna smiled as she took the box, popping two pills and dry swallowing them.
"Look, you can't hate me more than I hate me." Sam stated.
Deanna couldn't help but smirk at her brother. Turning to him, she shook her head. "Was that supposed to be meaningful and poetic?" She mocked.
Sam smirked. "Maybe."
"Damn you...I'm supposed to be angry at you...stop making me laugh." Deanna smiled, because as much as she would like nothing more than to tell Sam to go screw himself and get angry about the whole thing, Sam was still her little brother, and she knew that it wasn't his fault that the Doc had screwed with his head.
"So you didn't mean any if it, huh?" She asked. "Not any of it?"
"No." Sam shook his head.
"Sam, tell the truth. I'm tougher than I look, I can handle it. Lay it on me." Deanna encouraged.
"I am telling the truth. I didn't mean any of that stuff. That was all Dr. Ellicott as his freaky mind power thing." He explained.
Feeling the nausea come over her once again, Deanna willed herself upright from the slouched position she was sitting in.
Sam wrapped an arm around her back and supported her over to the toilet.
Deanna emptied the contents of her stomach into it before collapsing, drained into her brothers arms as he kept her upright. "If you tell anyone about this I will hunt your ass down!"
Sam smirked. "I should get a picture to remember the moment by."
"You'd be dead before you even got the chance to take it." Deanna answered, in a typical Deanna way before pausing. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't mad at you, because I am. I mean..." She paused once again. "...you shot me, man."
"I know..." Sam lowered his head.
As he did, Deanna caught sight of the impressive purple shiner that he was now sporting on his cheek and under his eye, she having been the one to put it there. Deanna raised a hand and gently traced the bruise lightly with her finger. "Still hurt?" She asked softly.
Sam smiled and turned to look at his sister. Even when his sister was in immense pain after being shot, she was still a mother hen when it came to him. "I'm fine, De." He reassured.
At the sound of her nickname, Deanna smiled. She knew she couldn't stay mad at her little brother. He probably knew that too. She had always been a pushover when it came to Sam. Stupid puppy dog eyes. Sighing, Deanna rested her head against her little brother's shoulder.
Sam smiled too, wrapping an arm gently around his sister before pulling her close so she was leaning against his side. "We will find Dad, Deanna..." He began. "I promise."