French Toast and Psychosis
Title: French Toast and Psychosis
Author: darth_firefly
Artist: kidezt
Beta:Terendel
Pairing: Dean/Gabriel, mentions of Sam/Bela
Rating:PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: Mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic), cancer
Summary: It was just supposed to be a weekend get-away. Doctor Gabriel Armstrong was looking forward to his semi-annual weekend off to de-stress from his job as a psychiatrist. He certainly wasn't looking for a weekend fling. Dean Winchester has been doing a good job of hiding his burn-out from running his diner and taking care of his brother Sam, who's battling leukemia. He was sent off for the weekend, kicking and screaming. He definitely wasn't looking for anything out of the weekend other than a nice massage. What neither of them know is that they're already connected - by one of Gabriel's patients, Emma Crowe.
Dean suspected his assistant manager and brother were up something - most likely about their plans for their convention trip in September. If he didn't have a diner to run and people counting on him, he might have asked if he could go along. He could throw together a Captain Jack Harkness costume and spend Labor Day weekend forgetting about his problems. But if he and Charlie both went on vacation, that would mean leaving Castiel Novak in charge. Cas was a man who underwent, as he called it, an 'involuntary career change' and still had bouts of panic attacks brought on by too much stress. Dean didn't want to know what sort of extreme stress the man went through as a stockbroker, he figured it was better left unasked. Leaving him in charge on a holiday weekend with both him and Charlie a plane ride away - that was just asking the man to have a nervous breakdown on their behalf.
“Dean? The Pepsi guy's here.” Becky called into the kitchen.
“Thanks.” He replied, looking up from the griddle as the transferred the western omelet onto a plate, and put it onto the transaction counter. “Table two's order is ready.” He hit the small bell and then went to the back door, where the delivery man was waiting. “Morning.”
“Morning.” The man replied and handed him an invoice.
Dean scanned it quickly. “Looks right.” He stepped back to let the man come in with his dolly of boxes of syrup for the soda machine.
“These still go in the same place?” The man gave him a warm smile.
“Yes, unless I somehow got more storage space overnight and no one told me.” He followed the man to the dry storage room, double checked what was brought in with the invoice and then signed it. “Thanks.”
“Welcome.” The man headed back for the exit and left.
Dean went back to the transaction window and looked out. The diner was mostly empty this time of the morning and he wiped his hands on his apron before stepping out and going to the counter. He took down the white board that hung on the wall and deftly wiped it off and started writing down the daily offerings for soup and dessert. He'd just hung it up when the door jingled and he heard the sound of heels clicking on the tile floor. He turned around and gave the woman, who looked to be around his brother's age, a welcoming smile. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” She set her purse on the counter, looking somewhat flustered. “I am in need of something that is either really fattening or really sweet - possibly both.”
“I can cook you some french toast and double the powdered sugar on it.” Dean took a pad out of the pocket in his apron. “Or if you want to skip sweet and go straight to fat, I suggest the glorified hash browns.”
“What's in those?” The woman set a shaking hand on the counter. “Could I get some coffee first, please?”
“Sure, right away.” Dean turned, quickly filled a cup and set it in front of her. “Are you okay?”
She took a drink from the cup and the shaking settled a little, but the saucer still rattled when she put her drink back down. “I'm fine - I'm sure I'll be fine once I eat. What's in those hash browns again?”
Dean didn't even pause, even though he'd never told her to begin with. “Hash browns, your choice of bacon or sausage, onions, peppers, cheese, salsa and a fried egg.” He frowned. “Are you sure you're fine?”
“I'm just freaking out a bit.” She took a deep, calming breath and then put her hands on her mug to steady her. “I think I'll go with the french toast - that come with bacon?”
“Yep.” He scribbled her order down on the pad. “I'll get that right out for you.”
“Thanks.” She took a drink of coffee.
He went back into the kitchen and started on her order, occasionally glancing out to check on the woman as she sat drinking her coffee. He'd seen enough drunk, hung over, stoned and strung out on who knew what college students to know she mostly likely wasn't on something. It was a more of a 'the bottom just fell out in my life' sort of nerves. When her toast was done, he liberally coated the dish in twice the amount of powdered sugar he normally would and brought it out to her. “Can I get you anything else?”
The woman looked at the plate and smiled. “That looks perfect.” She shook her head. “I think I'm good.”
Dean nodded and went back into the kitchen, leaving her check with her. He started prepping things for lunch, knowing that some kids from UK would be down before eleven thirty and the rush wouldn't stop until around three. He heard several of his workers come in through the back door and he quickly got to work chopping vegetables. Busy days were his favorite. They kept his mind off other things he didn't particularly want to dwell on. Back when Sam first started chemo, Dean longed for days of almost non-stop work. It was just - well, it was almost relaxing in a way.
Things were better now. Sam was getting ready for that last round of treatment and then they'd begin that long climb upward. His brother would make it, Dean was positive of that. Perhaps, just perhaps, it wouldn't be seem so bad if all of his brother's California friends, the ones he'd never shut up about at holidays, the camaraderie and of course, the girls, had promptly vanished the moment he'd gotten sick. If they had been true friends, they would have been falling over themselves to bring his brother to Louisville. They'd be calling to check on him, they'd be visiting, they wouldn't have just backed off as if leukemia was contagious.
Sam's newer friends were, in Dean's opinion, better people by far. A lot of Sam's friends were Dean's friends as well. Dean hadn't made many friends in culinary school. It had been rather a rather bloodthirsty place, many of them knowing they would do battle against each other for jobs and awards. He'd fallen into that category of student who already had a place lined up for them upon graduation. The heirs to family run businesses banded together in what was the closest the school had to a fraternal order. The rest of the students fought in subterfuge and backstabbing.
He was so engrossed in the rush and work of the day that when he looked up and saw it was nearly three in the afternoon he was shocked. “Where does the time go?” He put the grilled cheese sandwich he'd just finished cooking onto a plate and carried it to the transaction window. When he looked out, he saw the diner only had a few occupants left - the afternoon lull had begun. He sighed, shook his head and went to hang up his apron.
*
“I want to find my dad.” Emma's voice made Gabriel start. She almost never volunteered information.
He looked up from the Scrabble board. “You've never mentioned your dad before, Emma.”
The girl shifted in her seat. “My mom almost never talked about him. He wasn't uh... he wasn't one of the congregation.”
“I see. Do you know anything about him?” He put down the word dwarf and calculated the points.
“Like I said, my mom didn't talk about him. She just called him one of the unwashed... that's what people out of the congregation are called.” She rubbed her nose, frowning. “An unwashed man with eyes the same color as mine.” She gulped a breath. “I used to wish he'd come and save me from the congregation - but I don't think he knows I exist.”
“I'm sure he would have come for you, had he known.” Gabriel replied, sitting back in his chair to watch her. “What would you do, if you found your father?”
“I don't know.” She put down free off the end of his word. “I mean, I know it's not his fault and it's not like I'm expecting it to be all Hallmark Hall of Fame movie of the week where everything works out and before you know it, I'm the most popular girl in my school and...” She took a breath. “I just want to know that I'm not going to end up like my mother.”
“I'm pretty sure you won't end up like her.” Gabriel watched as she folded her arms and rested them on his desk. “What?”
“The kids at school give me a hard time because I'm so behind in my education. My foster parents are making me watch educational stuff that's for babies to try and catch up. I know a lot of the stuff on those shows. If anything, it's making me angrier. I go to school, and on days I don't see you, I see an educational therapist and she's the one who told them to have me watch those shows. I'm eleven years old! I'm not a baby!” She stood up and began to pace the room. “It isn't fair!”
“Have you tried explaining that to them?” He had a feeling the game was over for the session.
“I have, but they think I want to remain stupid! What is wrong with this foster care system? I thought they were supposed to care about kids!”
Gabriel slowly nodded. “Do you want me to mention this to your social worker?”
She stopped, confusion on her face. “You mean you don't already? I thought they all knew!”
“You're my patient, Emma. Our conversations are considered private by the law.” He folded his hands. “Now, if I was concerned you might harm yourself, I would be obligated to interfere.”
“But the court thing...” She grasped the back of her chair. “How does that....”
“I'll give a general overview of your psychological state to the court. Nothing personal.” He took a breath. “I'm your doctor, Emma. It's my job to see to your psychological and, to some extent, your physical well being. If you want me to give your social worker an earful, I'll do it as soon as we're done here. But I can't promise that if they remove you from your current home they will place you in a better one. It could be worse.”
She flopped down on the couch and folded her arms over her chest. “Maybe I do want the storybook ending. Maybe that's why I want to find my dad.” She turned her head towards him. “Is that such a bad thing?”
Gabriel sighed softly and rested his head on his hands, looking at her. “You've been through things no child should, Emma. If you want a happy ending, that's not surprising. But I'm going to caution you not to get your hopes up if, by some way, you are able to locate your father. People rarely live up to expectations.”
She took a breath. “There's always dreams.” She sat up, her mood completely changed. “So how do you think I can go about getting out of watching Dora the Explorer? Because seriously, she's starting to creep me out.”
He stared at her. “That's a show for toddlers.” He turned over to a new sheet of tablet paper. “I think it's time you went to reading. It will help with your school work far more than so-called educational television ever will.”
**
Despite his brother's incessant teasing, Sam wasn't a terrible cook. True, compared to his brother he was awful, but he at least considered himself above average. The fire in the microwave when he was nine was from him not knowing at the time you didn't put Styrofoam into the device - and forgetting to take the spoon out of the bowl didn't help matters either. But that was a long time ago and now he was able to cook most things, provided he had directions.
People used to give him strange looks when he told them that he was ten years younger than his brother, and that there were no siblings in between them. It was sort of weird, Sam had to think at times, but at others, it was great. He'd been too young to really want to hang out with Dean when he'd lived at home and by the time his big brother departed for culinary school, it was a moot point. When his brother came home for holidays however, it was awesome. Dean was the first person to take him to an R rated movie - 8 Mile - causing Sam to become the coolest eighth grader at John Brown Middle School. It'd been hard when Dean had moved away to Louisville. Harder than his brother going to school - it meant Dean wasn't coming home. He went to Palo Alto alone a few years later, and then - then their parents were gone. If he hadn't gotten sick, he most likely would still be out there. But deep down, he was glad to be here, in Kentucky, living with his brother, who still occasionally treated him as if he was still an annoying little ten year old baby - instead of the grown man he was.
The wonderful smell of the lasagna cooking nicely in the oven brought him back to the moment and he double checked it. He got the dressing for the salad that was ready and waiting in the fridge out and set them on the table, he glanced at the clock, hoping Dean wasn't going to be late getting home. Charlie had assured him that she would chase Dean out of the diner by four thirty.
“He's going to call this way too damn corny.” He shook his head. “He'll just have to deal with it.” He heard the garage door opening and he breathed a sigh of relief. Charlie had managed to do what she said she would.
“Damn it Sammy, I told you not to play around in the kitchen!” Dean barked as he opened the door from the garage and stepped into the room. “Tell me you remembered to take that lasagna out of the box!”
“Of course I did!” His brother's voice was full of mock anger. “Right after I turned it upside down!”
Dean shook his head and grinned. “It smells good Sam, you didn't have to make dinner.”
“Well, it was my turn and you can only eat so many bologna sandwiches.” He leaned against the counter. “How was your day?”
“Long.” Dean went and washed his hands. “Now, Charlie chased me out of the diner this afternoon, saying that there was something I needed to get home in time for.” He frowned at his brother. “Is there something I should know about?”
Sam waved his hand toward the table. “It's on your plate.” He went to get the salad out of the fridge. He heard his brother go across the room and fumble with the envelope he'd left there.
“What the hell is this?”
He came over and set the bowl of salad on the table. “It's your time off, Dean.”
“Sam.” Dean set the packet down. “This is -”
“Exactly what you need. You've been working almost non-stop and when you're not working, you tend to be taking care of me. It's before Thunder Over Louisville starts, so you can get all nice and rested up for one of the busiest times of the year.” Sam said, folding his arms.
“This is too much, Sam.” Dean sank into his chair. “Seriously, this...”
“For fuck's sake Dean, it's a weekend getaway to a spa, not a cruise to the Greek Isles.” He came over to the table and sat down. “Charlie and I both agree, you need this time off and we're telling you to go. Or do I have to get her over here?”
Dean set the packet down. “Please no. I've already had one stand off with her today and I don't want another one.” He started to dish himself up some salad.
“What was it about this time?” He took the tongs from his brother and got his own serving. “It's not the tofu thing again, is it?”
“No, she's over that.” He shook the bottle of blue cheese dressing before opening it. “This one was surprisingly about me leaving at a reasonable time.”
“Guess she won that one.” He poured a light amount of Italian dressing on his salad. “Oh crap, I forgot to get bread.”
“It's okay Sammy.” He picked up his fork, smiling. “This is great, thanks.”
“You're welcome.” He grinned and also began to eat.
**
Gabriel let himself into his loft apartment, feeling drained. His vacation could not come fast enough now. It was two weeks away and it seemed to be forever at the moment. He took off his coat and laid it over the chair, sighing softly. He lamented not stopping to get something to eat, but the prospect of going back out was just too much right now. After discarding his shoes he let his feet lead him into the kitchen. He fumbled through his basket full of take-out menus, wondering if he ought to just say the hell with it and have some cereal for dinner when he remembered that he'd forgotten to get milk at the store on the way home. “This is insane.” He took the menu for a local noodle shop and went to sit down at the table. “Add that to my ever growing to-do list.”
That infamous to-do list was a constant plague to him. It was the reason the loft was still only part-way furnished, the reason he hadn't completely unpacked everything, despite living here for almost three years, and the reason he usually forgot what he needed to pick up on the way home from work. Thankfully, he'd yet to come home and find he'd run out of toilet paper.
It was pretty sad when you knew the psychological damage you were causing yourself and at the same time telling other people to take care of theirs. One of these days, he was just going to say the hell with it and tear through that list. But first, no, there couldn't be a but first. He had to stop procrastinating and just do it. This weekend. He'd get through a bunch of things this weekend. He would get organized, get his loft together and maybe, once his home was together and maybe after his vacation he could, as his mother always called it, get back into the pool. It'd been years since he was in a relationship and he didn't want to do the one-night stand thing. He'd seen the effects on people's minds enough to know he didn't want to have it or be the cause of it. Trouble was, his work kept him so busy...
“I really am good at making excuses.” He scanned the menu and pulled out his cell phone. “Perhaps I need to date a fellow workaholic and at the end of the day we can sit down to a dinner of take-out and then fall asleep on the couch every night.” That actually sounded pretty good to him at this point. “Shame the Orion Diner doesn't deliver.”
**
Dean was a little annoyed that Sam and Charlie had gone behind his back to get him to take time off, although he knew that he shouldn't be too surprised. It was just the sort of thing the two of them would do. Now that it was going to happen, his stress level had already fallen some. Just knowing that there was going to be a weekend without working - and not being at the hospital - was a load off of his mind. Of course, finding someone to watch his brother was another story. Sam insisted he didn't need anyone to stay with him - he was nearly twenty one, after all - but Dean wasn't going to let his little brother get away with that.
“Earth to Dean.” A voice snapped him from his thoughts and he looked up from his paperwork.
“Afternoon Castiel.” He replied as the assistant manager of the Orion Diner came into the small office. “Please tell me you haven't come with news of some impending disaster.”
The slightly older man laughed. “No, no disaster. I just want to declare my innocence in Charlie's recent scheme to get you to go on vacation.”
He snorted. “I know you are. If you'd been involved, I'd probably be on my way to a bed and breakfast in Vermont, or something.”
“Please.” The man sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. “Sending someone who's single to a bed and breakfast for a vacation is a little like giving an all expenses paid trip to tour all the breweries in Germany to a recovering alcoholic.”
“You think you and Charlie can manage to get along for one weekend?” He gave his friend a stern look. “I'm more than willing to let Lena break up your fights.”
“It's not that bad.” Castiel leaned back in his chair. “It's a generational thing, that's all.” He frowned. “And since when is Lena the amazing wonder cook all that threatening?”
“Oh, Lena's not scary.” He smirked. “That six foot six, two hundred pounds of muscle of a fiance of hers, however, is.”
“I - wait, Lena's getting married?” He stood up and started to pace, looking agitated. “Is, uh... oh...”
“Cas, calm down, she just told me last night.”
“Sorry.” He fell back into his seat. “It's been a rough week.”
“Do you need a vacation too?” Dean offered. “I'm more than willing to let you have one, you know.”
“I -” He ran a hand through his hair. “I'm okay. I just - I'm always worried I'll be the last one to find something out when I should have been among the first.”
Dean shook his head. “Don't worry, if there's something you need to be informed of, I'll tell you ASAP.”
“Thanks.” He took a few deep breaths. “I'm better now.” He managed a weak smile. “Any upcoming menu changes I need to be aware of?”
He rested his head on his hand and gave Castiel a wry smile. “I am now ready to hear your monthly argument on adding a veggie burger to the menu.”
“Oh come on, I've not brought that up since November.” He replied, indignantly. “I was right about the potatoes for the fries, wasn't I?”
“I will give you that. The thing is, those veggie burgers don't change color when you cook 'em. How are you supposed to be able to tell when it's done?” Dean chuckled.
“You need a new argument for that.” Castiel ran a hand through his hair.
“You need to bring me a tasty veggie burger before I'll even consider adding it.” Dean went back to his paperwork.
**
Charlie set her overnight bag down on the bed in the guest room at the Winchester's house. Sam was still insisting that he didn't need someone to watch him, but honestly, she agreed with Dean. She was there just in case something happened - she was far too attached to the two brothers to have something happen to either of them. They were more or less the only family she had. She was an only child and her parents died when she was in junior high. Of course, she sort of felt she was doing double duty, keeping an eye on Sam and on Castiel at the diner. But with Cas it was more like she was there to back him up, rather than babysit. She was there to be the bad guy since letting him be the bad guy could turn ugly.
She took out her hygiene kit, set it on the bed and then went downstairs for a final check with Dean - and to chase the man out of the house. Honestly, it was a weekend, not a month long trip to the Mediterranean. Dean was in the kitchen, scribbling a few things down on a notepad. “You need to get out of here, you'll want to beat the traffic.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Dean straightened up and picked up his suitcase. “Sam knows his medication regimen. Don't forget to cover him up with a blanket if he falls asleep on the couch and -”
“If we have a wild party, don't make the house too clean or you're going to know what we were up to.” Charlie grinned and folded her arms. “Don't worry, we'll be fine.”
He made a face in response. “That's not what I was going to say. Tell Sammy he can't play video games unless his homework is done.”
She laughed. “Do I need to check it to see that he did it right?”
“I don't know, what do you know about Pre-law?” He shrugged. “And remember - he can't have any booze due to his medication.”
“Will you get going?” She stood, arms akimbo. “Or am I going to have to throw you to French Lick?”
“I'd love to see you try. I'll see you Sunday.” Dean went out into the garage. A few minutes later, Charlie heard the trunk shut and the engine roar to life and then the garage door shut. As soon as she could no longer hear the Impala, she walked over to the fridge, smirking. She swung the door open and laughed.
“Can't even trust me to cook, can you?” She shook her head at the sight of all the labeled containers of food, ready for her and Sam to eat this weekend. She shut the door, still chuckling. “You can't make us eat it.” Her mind was already on having pizza if Sam was up to it - and the two of them having a movie marathon.
*
Gabriel pulled his SUV in next to a classic looking, shiny black car. After getting out and shouldering his bag, he took a better look at it. It was a Chevrolet Impala, but he wasn't sure of the year. He noted that interior was almost spartan clean, and admonished himself before he got too deep in a psychological profile of the owner. He had to stop doing that in a lot of cases. He was going to spend his time relaxing this weekend and not thinking about what mental issues his fellow spa-goers had. He stepped into the lobby.
The fresh sent of lilacs alone reduced his stress level.
He walked across to the front desk, relieved that there wasn't a line. “Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, sir.” The woman gave him a smile and he noted that her name tag read 'Lydia.' “Checking in?”
“Yes.” He took out his wallet. “Reservation is under Armstrong.” He handed her his credit card.
“Yes, sir.” She started clicking away on her keyboard. “Ah yes, here you are.” She looked up. “Would you like a print out of your itinerary?” She handed the card back.
Gabriel already had a copy of his schedule, but it wouldn't hurt to have an extra. “Yes, thank you.”
“Not a problem.” She went back to typing.
“Shuttles to the restaurants haven't changed, have they?”
“No, sir.” She replied and handed him his room key and itinerary. “You're all checked in to Room 534. If there's any problem, or something you need, please don't hesitate to call down to the front desk.”
“I won't.” He shouldered his bag. “And thank you again.”
“You're most welcome. Enjoy your stay.”
Gabriel went over to the elevators and let out a sigh of relief when he let himself into his room. He put down his bag, set down the key, papers and then emptied his pockets on the dresser. He then went over to the bed, spread his arms out and fell backwards onto it, closing his eyes as the memory-foam moved under his weight. He kicked off his shoes and let out a breath. “No worries but what to eat.” He chuckled and repeated the phrase, already feeling at least eighty percent better.
Chapter Three