Supernatural/Paprika Fusion: While I Lay Dreaming (2/?)
Series: While I Lay Dreaming
Chapter Title: and this one is for bravery/and this one for me
Author: felicia_angel
Fandoms: Supernatural, Paprika (movie)
Characters: (this chapter) Hendriksen, Doctor Shima, Doctor Chiba (mentioned), Dean
Series Summary: AU from "Swan Song" and "Jus in Bello" - Dean checked into the Institute because of insomnia. Now, his family must attempt to piece together a way to save him and the world from something dangerous.
Chapter Summary: Victor Hendriksen has finally caught Dean Winchester...and is now responsible for him when Dean dies. But the more he looks into Dean's past, the weirder things look.
AO3 Link
And this one is for bravery/and this one is for me
-Soldier’s Things
June-August 2010
FBI Special Agent Victor Hendriksen glared at Doctor Thomas Shima as he handed over the folder, managing to glance down at the photos and notes that Shima and his associate, Doctor Chiba, had gotten on the new patient. It had been a few weeks, and they weren’t letting him do his job.
This was the man responsible for multiple homicides, a dangerous psychopath who killed without a thought of what the consequences were, and the man who’d killed Reidy. That he’d been alive and free, when Hendriksen could’ve been searching for him and that brother of his…
“Victor, please,” Thomas said, earning the glare, “you must understand that I have to have his best interest at heart.”
“He’s a killer, Thomas. You can’t--.”
“So are most of the people I treat here,” Thomas reminded him, sitting back in his seat, “Dean’s are just…well-documented, in some cases.”
“Thomas…”
“I’m not asking you believe his reasoning, Victor, just that you understand.” He pointed, “The list of his diagnosis is so far insomnia and PTSD. He’s exhibiting some forms of mutism, as well as stress. Combined with a lack of sleep, constant nightmares, and illness from having to quit drinking, but now showing a possible dependency towards melatonin and other drugs, it’s very hard to treat him. We need to put him in the DC program.”
The DC was a dream therapy machine that had been the brainchild of Tokita, a heavy, child-minded inventor who worked at the institute. The tests had helped connect those who were stuck in their mind to family, and had been instrumental in helping veterans with similar problems (well, some of the problems) with readjusting to sleep and life.
Dean, when he’d come into the Institute, had been sedated (and still experienced nightmares), treated (and still had nightmares) and been through the ringer when a check-up showed he was suffering from withdrawal. It’d taken two days before Shima had gotten out that Dean was in withdrawal from alcohol, and the day after that, Dean had managed to give them the slip before returning, dead-drunk, and apologizing.
If he was in the program, he might come out of it saner, and able to stand trial. If not, Dean was to be put further into the Institute and, hopefully, left there to rot.
“You have the FBI’s cooperation on it,” Hendriksen ground out, “I’m here because he got out. We don’t like it when serial killers escape from their rooms, even if it’s to hustle pool and get drunk.”
Thomas looked a bit relieved. He’d worked with Hendriksen during the initial search for Dean, and knew his profile intimately. “Thank you, Victor.”
“Can I see him before I go?”
“Victor...”
“He’s upset already, Thomas. I can’t get him that much more upset, now can I?”
Thomas frowned at him but allowed it, Hendriksen heading over to the room where Winchester now rested, restrained and looking less like the evil thing that Hendriksen had hunted and more like one of the anorexia patients. The withdrawal was going to be hard on him, but Dean wasn’t telling them if there was any next-of-kin, and had apparently decided that he’d take that risk.
The Chairman and his man, Doctor Harris, were unhappy with the situation, though to be fair Hendriksen didn’t like either of them. Harris seemed like one of those that hated themselves for various reasons, none of which made much sense to Hendriksen, and the Chairman was old school in his methods of dealing with psychosis - and Hendriksen meant Victorian Age to “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” old school.
“Hi,” Dean muttered, getting Hendriksen to glare at him from the entrance of the room.
“Oh, it’s about time! I’ll have a cheeseburger.” As Hendriksen looks at him, Winchester smiles a bit. “Extra onions.”
Hendriksen is impressed, the first time he has met a killer like Winchester in the flesh. The boy is in his mid twenties, his hair military-short and only barely showing the blond in it, his eyes clear and showing no hint of fear or worry. He’s simply sitting there, a goofy grin on his face, like he’s done this so often he’s not even going to try and worry.
“You think you’re funny?”
“I think I’m adorable.” The smile grew wider…more innocent.
Hendriksen shook his head. “Last time we spoke, you ordered a burger.”
“extra onions,” Winchester mutters, and manages a sad smile. “Yeah, I did.”
Hendriksen was going to take pleasure in making this guy squirm. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Dean. I’m special Agent Victor Henriksen. This is my partner, Special Agent Reidy.”
In a year, Reidy would be dead. But he’s watching Henriksen with happiness, that they’d caught Winchester on a fluke. How the hell had they gotten so sloppy?
Henriksen saw some worry creep in. He wondered how worried Winchester would have to be, to let that show. “Henriksen? Not the Milwaukee agent Henriksen?”
“Live and in person.”
“Glad to see you again,” Dean manages, “for what it’s worth.”
“Well, I kinda wished you’d been the one that died in Monument, but that’s beside the point, ain’t it?”
Dean’s eyes fill with sadness and loss, something that Hendriksen doesn’t want to see. “Yeah…I think I wouldn’t like that too.” He looked back up at Victor. “Why’re you here?”
“I thought you didn’t like the idea of dying,” Hendriksen ground out, recalling some of what Thomas had told him, back before Reidy’s death.
“I don’t,” Dean muttered back, “it’s a bitch.”
“Died often?”
“Often enough,” Dean replied, looking away. “Been to Heaven and Hell. I’m suddenly all for saying ‘no’ to the Reaper when she comes by again. You say no long enough, you get to stay, for better or worse.” He managed to glance at Hendriksen. “If I got stuck in bed, no way to get me out and about...what do you think would happen?”
Hendriksen walked forward and told him, truthfully, “I’d do my best to make sure you stayed alive, and was stuck there, no matter what happened. I’d keep you on life-support even if every synopsis was gone. And if I could, I’d make sure your body was burned and your ashes scattered, so no freak-shows could come and mourn them.”
Dean was silent, not really looking at Hendriksen, before he slowly turned to look at him, eyes devoid of emotion. “Yeah. I think I’d do that too.”
--
Dean had two major health-scares while he was recovering enough to be put on the DC psychotherapy machine. His lawyer, Sophia Moore, unhappy with Hendriksen for various reasons. First and foremost, he guessed, was that he had the legal means of ending Dean’s life, should he ever go into a coma or not be able to convey his wishes.
Hendriksen knew this wasn’t a way for Dean to give a final ‘fuck you’ to him, but rather as an apology. Thomas reported little progress until he began to read up on the lore that Dean mentioned, and show some interest in it. Dean’s beliefs and understanding of the world was of one that held monsters of all stripes. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he’d lost his childhood somewhere around six years old, the age that Dean said he first shot a gun (a damned real gun! the hell was his dad thinking?) and ten, where Something Big happened to make Dean no longer want items or things for himself.
Hendriksen, meanwhile, searched for more answers. He found hints and clues and followed them to the Glenwood Psychiatric Hospital, or something like that. The name was changing, as was most of the management, after a scandal of some sort revolving around patients who’d committed suicide. A bit of digging showed there’d been eight deaths - seven patients and a nurse - before the investigation actually went into the deaths. The head psychiatrist had not seen anything wrong in the sudden intensification of various ailments, especially among those with paranoia, or the need to actually look into what appeared to be suicides of people who all claimed a ‘monster’ was after them. Considering that a search showed Nurse Karla had worked in two such hospitals before, both of which had similar occurrences, and the doc was out of a job pretty quickly.
The only person still there who might have known the Winchesters was a rather paranoid, shaky guy named Martin, who took his time looking over Hendriksen’s badge before saying he only knew them when they were in the hospital, and that they had believed him about Karla.
Hendriksen didn’t buy it one bit. It wasn’t THAT HARD to figure out that Martin was part of the weird group of paramilitary vigilantes (“Hunters”) that believed in the supernatural due to various circumstances. Most, from what he could gather, got into it like John Winchester did - they had some sort of mental break, or something tragic, that ended up with them going over the deep end. However, few had kids that they brought into the event.
Dean was four when his mother died, and after that it’d been a string of hotel rooms, of orders that a soldier (not a kid) should follow, and a longer line of being pushed into that world instead of the real one.
Thomas sighed as he listened to Hendriksen’s rant. “Victor, to him, that is the real world. He’s lived on the fringes of this one, so he’s fallen through the system for a very long while.” There was a pause, “What else have you found out?”
“Very little, officially,” Victor muttered, annoyed, “It’s not like actual law can track most of these guys down. Hell, they’re harder to find then most off-the-grid militias. And it doesn’t help that they know the system. Even when I was dealing with the Winchesters while they were caught, Sam Winchester knew enough about the law to be a damned good lawyer, and Dean knew enough about police procedures to know when we could or couldn’t use evidence.” He glanced through what he had. “A lot of the stuff is petty, and some of the more serious charges would be hard to stick. How the hell do you prove a guy killed himself?”
“Evil twin?”
“You’re not funny, Thomas.”
Thomas shrugged. “I have little to tell you, besides the fact that, if he was doing something like vigilante work for odd situations, there may be a lot of people who aren’t up for reliving it, or even discussing it. You’re basically looking for people who are even harder to find than cartel bosses, or those guys from Breaking Bad, or whatever. If they have family and business, they’ll just be seen as the town drunk or crazy. If not...well, I can only offer luck.”
Hendriksen let out a groan. “I’ll trade this whole cluster in for a good old fashioned militia...anything.”
“You might have things easier then,” Thomas pointed out with a slight chuckle before growing serious. “Chiba wants to start him on the DC machine in a week or so. Since you’ve been signed over as the person to go to for his medical and funeral benefits, I’d like you to see some of what we get.”
Hendriksen frowned. “You’re joking.”
“Unless you find a family member or someone that knows him, you’re the only one I can go to,” Thomas pointed out, “and...well, he mentioned what you said, and why he handed that over.”
“Look, I was angry--.”
“I know that, and he does too. But the fact of the matter is, what you threatened him with...Victor, he took it as the lesser of three evils.” THAT was not something Hendriksen wanted to hear.
“You’re joking.”
“He has a very...unique vision...of ghosts and spirits. But recently he had quite a nightmare.” Thomas sat back, considering. “Have you heard this old tale, about a man who trapped death?”
“Thomas...”
“It’s old Russian, I think...my son used to watch that old show on TV...The Storyteller or something, a lot of Muppets or the like. Anyway, an old soldier finds all this wealth, and one day manages to save his son from illness. He uses that to gain more wealth, but one day uses it to save a high-profile prince from death, and nearly dies. So he traps Death, and hides it. Soon, though, he sees all the people who need to die, and releases Death, but now it won’t come for him, and instead leaves him to live forever, alone. So he travels to Hell, and gets out some half-damned souls, and then tries to get into Heaven. He gives one of the souls a magical sack, so he can get into Heaven, but the soul forgets, and he’s left outside, never dying and without any of the things he gained.” Both men are silent, Victor thinking over the implication. “Dean has stated, and his symptoms suggest, that he was tormented to a point where I doubt he’ll ever be without nightmares. He’s not religious, but mentions an Apocalypse he stopped, and considering the way he described it, I can only assume it’s the Christian one. So he believes in demons, and angels. Think about what that might do to a person, who believes he stopped them from their fight. To him, Heaven would not be a peaceful place, and Hell...well...” Thomas shrugged. “The only safe thing would be to give himself over to a man who hates him enough to keep him alive, and on earth, until he has no choice but to forget everything, and fade away into nothingness.”
“The man’s a killer, Thomas,” Hendriksen said, “and I was having a bad day. I can’t feel that sorry for him.”
“But you do,” Thomas pointed out, “and he knows that he’s not normal. He mentioned his brother, and others. To him, they’re children, they managed a childhood and a life. But he never will. At six, he set on his path. At ten, he was forced into it, and by sixteen...well, he has no choice but to accept that it was what he’d do, for the rest of his life. All we’re doing is trying to help him, but to tell you the truth, I doubt he’ll ever become sane enough to really be put in a prison. His vision of himself and morality is too skewed.”
Hendriksen signed off, and considered his next move.
--
If he was honest, Hendriksen would admit he didn’t think the human mind could come up with something that sick. He was pretty sure there was no person that could imagine Hell as that - but apparently Dean Winchester thought Dante was pulling punches.
Because his first trip into the DC machine was...not pretty. The nightmare that they pulled out was bad enough, the fact that it was Dean as the tortured also was not making Hendriksen comfortable.
The more he learned about Dean Winchester, the more he pitied the lost four-year-old who played tee-ball. He’d gone from trying to find out more about Dean to more about his parents, perhaps to learn about what happened, and...
Well, it was more a rabbit-hole then Dean’s own life. For starters, his mother lived in Kansas, but her family was all over, and the ones that had managed her funeral were...not around.
As in they only appeared for that purpose, then left without saying anything. Whatever had happened, it was a bit confusing. John Winchester’s grief had not allowed him to follow up on that part, though. Hendriksen’s curiosity had.
The Campbells were both spread out and so far under the radar it couldn’t be a coincidence. The marriage of Mary Campbell and John Winchester was nearly to the day of the homicide-suicide of her parents. Who the family (pretty much the same damned uncles) also covered up neatly.
John Winchester was...different. John’s father, Henry Woodward, had disappeared in the 1950s, during a mysterious fire at his club in Illinois - most of the bodies were found, but not his and that of Miss Josie Sands. His mother had moved back and married a guy she was sweet on before, James Winchester, and they’d changed names. John was smart, but went into the Marines as a sniper, and was only on good terms with his stepfather after he returned and married. He and Mike Gunther had managed to get ownership of a mechanics place after the mechanic died a very odd death - one that still somewhat the talk, because John had apparently left for a day and returned with no memory of the event, save that his wife was pregnant with Dean and suddenly very interested in angels. Before, Mary Winchester had not been particularly religious, but she knew enough to make people wonder.
The last bit, though, made Hendriksen frown. John’s mother had been sweet on a guy before Henry Woodward had wandered through town, and she left with him. Most people, James included, though Henry had done something to her, because when she returned, she knew she had ‘been loved’ but didn’t remember much more about Henry. Even John has little good to say about his biological father, instead considering James ‘dad’. Mary, according to all reports, hated her family, but mostly her father - she wanted to get out of the ‘family business’ and learn, and spent a great deal of time either at schools or with others. When John returned from Vietnam, she’d taken a shining to him and, apparently because her father had yelled at them both for going out, she’d only started to love him more.
Thomas reported on Dean’s love and pedestal for his mother, but also a bitterness for how his parents had ended up together. Dean’s memories was that of a somewhat imperfect marriage, promising to always be there for his mother...and his father’s grief and drive for vengeance after her death.
Something, recently, had made that all seem for naught to Dean, as if the whole thing was orchestrated and created only to cause them pain. It added to the mystery that was Dean’s family.
--
The medical results were not what Hendriksen wanted to hear, and he could see Moore’s sadness and anxiety over them. Despite the efforts of the DC machine, which was so far pretty good efforts, the long-term damage was enough that there was no getting around it.
Dean Winchester needed a miracle, or he was going to die.
Chapter Title: and this one is for bravery/and this one for me
Author: felicia_angel
Fandoms: Supernatural, Paprika (movie)
Characters: (this chapter) Hendriksen, Doctor Shima, Doctor Chiba (mentioned), Dean
Series Summary: AU from "Swan Song" and "Jus in Bello" - Dean checked into the Institute because of insomnia. Now, his family must attempt to piece together a way to save him and the world from something dangerous.
Chapter Summary: Victor Hendriksen has finally caught Dean Winchester...and is now responsible for him when Dean dies. But the more he looks into Dean's past, the weirder things look.
AO3 Link
And this one is for bravery/and this one is for me
-Soldier’s Things
June-August 2010
FBI Special Agent Victor Hendriksen glared at Doctor Thomas Shima as he handed over the folder, managing to glance down at the photos and notes that Shima and his associate, Doctor Chiba, had gotten on the new patient. It had been a few weeks, and they weren’t letting him do his job.
This was the man responsible for multiple homicides, a dangerous psychopath who killed without a thought of what the consequences were, and the man who’d killed Reidy. That he’d been alive and free, when Hendriksen could’ve been searching for him and that brother of his…
“Victor, please,” Thomas said, earning the glare, “you must understand that I have to have his best interest at heart.”
“He’s a killer, Thomas. You can’t--.”
“So are most of the people I treat here,” Thomas reminded him, sitting back in his seat, “Dean’s are just…well-documented, in some cases.”
“Thomas…”
“I’m not asking you believe his reasoning, Victor, just that you understand.” He pointed, “The list of his diagnosis is so far insomnia and PTSD. He’s exhibiting some forms of mutism, as well as stress. Combined with a lack of sleep, constant nightmares, and illness from having to quit drinking, but now showing a possible dependency towards melatonin and other drugs, it’s very hard to treat him. We need to put him in the DC program.”
The DC was a dream therapy machine that had been the brainchild of Tokita, a heavy, child-minded inventor who worked at the institute. The tests had helped connect those who were stuck in their mind to family, and had been instrumental in helping veterans with similar problems (well, some of the problems) with readjusting to sleep and life.
Dean, when he’d come into the Institute, had been sedated (and still experienced nightmares), treated (and still had nightmares) and been through the ringer when a check-up showed he was suffering from withdrawal. It’d taken two days before Shima had gotten out that Dean was in withdrawal from alcohol, and the day after that, Dean had managed to give them the slip before returning, dead-drunk, and apologizing.
If he was in the program, he might come out of it saner, and able to stand trial. If not, Dean was to be put further into the Institute and, hopefully, left there to rot.
“You have the FBI’s cooperation on it,” Hendriksen ground out, “I’m here because he got out. We don’t like it when serial killers escape from their rooms, even if it’s to hustle pool and get drunk.”
Thomas looked a bit relieved. He’d worked with Hendriksen during the initial search for Dean, and knew his profile intimately. “Thank you, Victor.”
“Can I see him before I go?”
“Victor...”
“He’s upset already, Thomas. I can’t get him that much more upset, now can I?”
Thomas frowned at him but allowed it, Hendriksen heading over to the room where Winchester now rested, restrained and looking less like the evil thing that Hendriksen had hunted and more like one of the anorexia patients. The withdrawal was going to be hard on him, but Dean wasn’t telling them if there was any next-of-kin, and had apparently decided that he’d take that risk.
The Chairman and his man, Doctor Harris, were unhappy with the situation, though to be fair Hendriksen didn’t like either of them. Harris seemed like one of those that hated themselves for various reasons, none of which made much sense to Hendriksen, and the Chairman was old school in his methods of dealing with psychosis - and Hendriksen meant Victorian Age to “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest” old school.
“Hi,” Dean muttered, getting Hendriksen to glare at him from the entrance of the room.
“Oh, it’s about time! I’ll have a cheeseburger.” As Hendriksen looks at him, Winchester smiles a bit. “Extra onions.”
Hendriksen is impressed, the first time he has met a killer like Winchester in the flesh. The boy is in his mid twenties, his hair military-short and only barely showing the blond in it, his eyes clear and showing no hint of fear or worry. He’s simply sitting there, a goofy grin on his face, like he’s done this so often he’s not even going to try and worry.
“You think you’re funny?”
“I think I’m adorable.” The smile grew wider…more innocent.
Hendriksen shook his head. “Last time we spoke, you ordered a burger.”
“extra onions,” Winchester mutters, and manages a sad smile. “Yeah, I did.”
Hendriksen was going to take pleasure in making this guy squirm. “It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, Dean. I’m special Agent Victor Henriksen. This is my partner, Special Agent Reidy.”
In a year, Reidy would be dead. But he’s watching Henriksen with happiness, that they’d caught Winchester on a fluke. How the hell had they gotten so sloppy?
Henriksen saw some worry creep in. He wondered how worried Winchester would have to be, to let that show. “Henriksen? Not the Milwaukee agent Henriksen?”
“Live and in person.”
“Glad to see you again,” Dean manages, “for what it’s worth.”
“Well, I kinda wished you’d been the one that died in Monument, but that’s beside the point, ain’t it?”
Dean’s eyes fill with sadness and loss, something that Hendriksen doesn’t want to see. “Yeah…I think I wouldn’t like that too.” He looked back up at Victor. “Why’re you here?”
“I thought you didn’t like the idea of dying,” Hendriksen ground out, recalling some of what Thomas had told him, back before Reidy’s death.
“I don’t,” Dean muttered back, “it’s a bitch.”
“Died often?”
“Often enough,” Dean replied, looking away. “Been to Heaven and Hell. I’m suddenly all for saying ‘no’ to the Reaper when she comes by again. You say no long enough, you get to stay, for better or worse.” He managed to glance at Hendriksen. “If I got stuck in bed, no way to get me out and about...what do you think would happen?”
Hendriksen walked forward and told him, truthfully, “I’d do my best to make sure you stayed alive, and was stuck there, no matter what happened. I’d keep you on life-support even if every synopsis was gone. And if I could, I’d make sure your body was burned and your ashes scattered, so no freak-shows could come and mourn them.”
Dean was silent, not really looking at Hendriksen, before he slowly turned to look at him, eyes devoid of emotion. “Yeah. I think I’d do that too.”
--
Dean had two major health-scares while he was recovering enough to be put on the DC psychotherapy machine. His lawyer, Sophia Moore, unhappy with Hendriksen for various reasons. First and foremost, he guessed, was that he had the legal means of ending Dean’s life, should he ever go into a coma or not be able to convey his wishes.
Hendriksen knew this wasn’t a way for Dean to give a final ‘fuck you’ to him, but rather as an apology. Thomas reported little progress until he began to read up on the lore that Dean mentioned, and show some interest in it. Dean’s beliefs and understanding of the world was of one that held monsters of all stripes. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he’d lost his childhood somewhere around six years old, the age that Dean said he first shot a gun (a damned real gun! the hell was his dad thinking?) and ten, where Something Big happened to make Dean no longer want items or things for himself.
Hendriksen, meanwhile, searched for more answers. He found hints and clues and followed them to the Glenwood Psychiatric Hospital, or something like that. The name was changing, as was most of the management, after a scandal of some sort revolving around patients who’d committed suicide. A bit of digging showed there’d been eight deaths - seven patients and a nurse - before the investigation actually went into the deaths. The head psychiatrist had not seen anything wrong in the sudden intensification of various ailments, especially among those with paranoia, or the need to actually look into what appeared to be suicides of people who all claimed a ‘monster’ was after them. Considering that a search showed Nurse Karla had worked in two such hospitals before, both of which had similar occurrences, and the doc was out of a job pretty quickly.
The only person still there who might have known the Winchesters was a rather paranoid, shaky guy named Martin, who took his time looking over Hendriksen’s badge before saying he only knew them when they were in the hospital, and that they had believed him about Karla.
Hendriksen didn’t buy it one bit. It wasn’t THAT HARD to figure out that Martin was part of the weird group of paramilitary vigilantes (“Hunters”) that believed in the supernatural due to various circumstances. Most, from what he could gather, got into it like John Winchester did - they had some sort of mental break, or something tragic, that ended up with them going over the deep end. However, few had kids that they brought into the event.
Dean was four when his mother died, and after that it’d been a string of hotel rooms, of orders that a soldier (not a kid) should follow, and a longer line of being pushed into that world instead of the real one.
Thomas sighed as he listened to Hendriksen’s rant. “Victor, to him, that is the real world. He’s lived on the fringes of this one, so he’s fallen through the system for a very long while.” There was a pause, “What else have you found out?”
“Very little, officially,” Victor muttered, annoyed, “It’s not like actual law can track most of these guys down. Hell, they’re harder to find then most off-the-grid militias. And it doesn’t help that they know the system. Even when I was dealing with the Winchesters while they were caught, Sam Winchester knew enough about the law to be a damned good lawyer, and Dean knew enough about police procedures to know when we could or couldn’t use evidence.” He glanced through what he had. “A lot of the stuff is petty, and some of the more serious charges would be hard to stick. How the hell do you prove a guy killed himself?”
“Evil twin?”
“You’re not funny, Thomas.”
Thomas shrugged. “I have little to tell you, besides the fact that, if he was doing something like vigilante work for odd situations, there may be a lot of people who aren’t up for reliving it, or even discussing it. You’re basically looking for people who are even harder to find than cartel bosses, or those guys from Breaking Bad, or whatever. If they have family and business, they’ll just be seen as the town drunk or crazy. If not...well, I can only offer luck.”
Hendriksen let out a groan. “I’ll trade this whole cluster in for a good old fashioned militia...anything.”
“You might have things easier then,” Thomas pointed out with a slight chuckle before growing serious. “Chiba wants to start him on the DC machine in a week or so. Since you’ve been signed over as the person to go to for his medical and funeral benefits, I’d like you to see some of what we get.”
Hendriksen frowned. “You’re joking.”
“Unless you find a family member or someone that knows him, you’re the only one I can go to,” Thomas pointed out, “and...well, he mentioned what you said, and why he handed that over.”
“Look, I was angry--.”
“I know that, and he does too. But the fact of the matter is, what you threatened him with...Victor, he took it as the lesser of three evils.” THAT was not something Hendriksen wanted to hear.
“You’re joking.”
“He has a very...unique vision...of ghosts and spirits. But recently he had quite a nightmare.” Thomas sat back, considering. “Have you heard this old tale, about a man who trapped death?”
“Thomas...”
“It’s old Russian, I think...my son used to watch that old show on TV...The Storyteller or something, a lot of Muppets or the like. Anyway, an old soldier finds all this wealth, and one day manages to save his son from illness. He uses that to gain more wealth, but one day uses it to save a high-profile prince from death, and nearly dies. So he traps Death, and hides it. Soon, though, he sees all the people who need to die, and releases Death, but now it won’t come for him, and instead leaves him to live forever, alone. So he travels to Hell, and gets out some half-damned souls, and then tries to get into Heaven. He gives one of the souls a magical sack, so he can get into Heaven, but the soul forgets, and he’s left outside, never dying and without any of the things he gained.” Both men are silent, Victor thinking over the implication. “Dean has stated, and his symptoms suggest, that he was tormented to a point where I doubt he’ll ever be without nightmares. He’s not religious, but mentions an Apocalypse he stopped, and considering the way he described it, I can only assume it’s the Christian one. So he believes in demons, and angels. Think about what that might do to a person, who believes he stopped them from their fight. To him, Heaven would not be a peaceful place, and Hell...well...” Thomas shrugged. “The only safe thing would be to give himself over to a man who hates him enough to keep him alive, and on earth, until he has no choice but to forget everything, and fade away into nothingness.”
“The man’s a killer, Thomas,” Hendriksen said, “and I was having a bad day. I can’t feel that sorry for him.”
“But you do,” Thomas pointed out, “and he knows that he’s not normal. He mentioned his brother, and others. To him, they’re children, they managed a childhood and a life. But he never will. At six, he set on his path. At ten, he was forced into it, and by sixteen...well, he has no choice but to accept that it was what he’d do, for the rest of his life. All we’re doing is trying to help him, but to tell you the truth, I doubt he’ll ever become sane enough to really be put in a prison. His vision of himself and morality is too skewed.”
Hendriksen signed off, and considered his next move.
--
If he was honest, Hendriksen would admit he didn’t think the human mind could come up with something that sick. He was pretty sure there was no person that could imagine Hell as that - but apparently Dean Winchester thought Dante was pulling punches.
Because his first trip into the DC machine was...not pretty. The nightmare that they pulled out was bad enough, the fact that it was Dean as the tortured also was not making Hendriksen comfortable.
The more he learned about Dean Winchester, the more he pitied the lost four-year-old who played tee-ball. He’d gone from trying to find out more about Dean to more about his parents, perhaps to learn about what happened, and...
Well, it was more a rabbit-hole then Dean’s own life. For starters, his mother lived in Kansas, but her family was all over, and the ones that had managed her funeral were...not around.
As in they only appeared for that purpose, then left without saying anything. Whatever had happened, it was a bit confusing. John Winchester’s grief had not allowed him to follow up on that part, though. Hendriksen’s curiosity had.
The Campbells were both spread out and so far under the radar it couldn’t be a coincidence. The marriage of Mary Campbell and John Winchester was nearly to the day of the homicide-suicide of her parents. Who the family (pretty much the same damned uncles) also covered up neatly.
John Winchester was...different. John’s father, Henry Woodward, had disappeared in the 1950s, during a mysterious fire at his club in Illinois - most of the bodies were found, but not his and that of Miss Josie Sands. His mother had moved back and married a guy she was sweet on before, James Winchester, and they’d changed names. John was smart, but went into the Marines as a sniper, and was only on good terms with his stepfather after he returned and married. He and Mike Gunther had managed to get ownership of a mechanics place after the mechanic died a very odd death - one that still somewhat the talk, because John had apparently left for a day and returned with no memory of the event, save that his wife was pregnant with Dean and suddenly very interested in angels. Before, Mary Winchester had not been particularly religious, but she knew enough to make people wonder.
The last bit, though, made Hendriksen frown. John’s mother had been sweet on a guy before Henry Woodward had wandered through town, and she left with him. Most people, James included, though Henry had done something to her, because when she returned, she knew she had ‘been loved’ but didn’t remember much more about Henry. Even John has little good to say about his biological father, instead considering James ‘dad’. Mary, according to all reports, hated her family, but mostly her father - she wanted to get out of the ‘family business’ and learn, and spent a great deal of time either at schools or with others. When John returned from Vietnam, she’d taken a shining to him and, apparently because her father had yelled at them both for going out, she’d only started to love him more.
Thomas reported on Dean’s love and pedestal for his mother, but also a bitterness for how his parents had ended up together. Dean’s memories was that of a somewhat imperfect marriage, promising to always be there for his mother...and his father’s grief and drive for vengeance after her death.
Something, recently, had made that all seem for naught to Dean, as if the whole thing was orchestrated and created only to cause them pain. It added to the mystery that was Dean’s family.
--
The medical results were not what Hendriksen wanted to hear, and he could see Moore’s sadness and anxiety over them. Despite the efforts of the DC machine, which was so far pretty good efforts, the long-term damage was enough that there was no getting around it.
Dean Winchester needed a miracle, or he was going to die.