The Devil Inside Ch4
Title: The Devil Inside
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort - DeanWhump!
Content: R for violence and language.
Length: 4/5 complete
Summary: Sam wants his brother back...be careful what you wish for.
Chapter 4
*
*
*
The unit alarm screeched, its irritating tone only adding to the tension. The Charge Nurse lifted lazy eyes up towards the corridor outside.
Psych nurses running - all hands requested.
From Dean Winter’s room - the roar of descent, of hate, of ultimate, all consuming rage filtered back to the Nurse in his office. Stumbling from the room - Todd left a bloodied hand smear on the white corridor wall as he slid down it - the maelstrom of violence continuing despite him.
With a sigh, the Charge Nurse flipped open the plastic file and jabbed a fat finger into the number pad of his phone.
*
*
Bobby tugged at his sleeves and smoothed the lapels of his suit. He glanced out into the main room, to see Sam still hovering. Impatient.
The phone call had produced an eruption of activity in the otherwise quiet atmosphere of Bobby’s motel room. The psych unit had phoned Sam to postpone that day’s visit. Dean had relapsed.
No, they didn’t think tomorrow would suit.
Yes, there had been more violence.
Yes, people had been hospitalised...again.
No, there was nothing he could do, and if he turned up he’d be escorted from the unit. Bobby had never seen Sam so angry.
“They have no right to keep him from me!” he’d bellowed as he’d slammed the door shut behind him.
“They’re only doing their jobs, Sam,” he had offered, not expecting a reply.
“We need to get in there.”
“And we will,” Bobby had soothed. Now, as he smoothed down his hair and pocketed his new ID, he moved quickly through the empty room only to see Sam already sitting in the drivers seat, ready. He locked the door and jumped into the passenger seat of the Impala.
*
*
The Rookie hesitated at the sight before him.
Four psych nurses holding him down. Blood on the floor, on the padded walls. Inhuman screams of defiance, promising death to every one of them, the most horrific descriptions down to the last detail. This was the John Doe they’d all been talking about. Newly discovered by his brother as Dean Winters. How he pitied who ever Dean’s brother was.
He gripped the kidney dish tight, and was jolted into movement by Virgil’s persistent signalling to come closer.
“Don’t do it, Aaron!” Dean screamed, his neck cruelly contorted so he could see him. Aaron froze wide eyed at the use of his name. Virgil made eye contact with the other three nurses.
“Don’t listen to him, just give it too me,” Virgil said calmly.
“Think about your mother, boy. All alone in that house. When I break free...and I will...I ‘m gonna need somewhere to go...”
Aaron swallowed hard.
“Don’t listen to him!” Virgil repeated.
The rookie mesmerised by Dean’s words. “How...how does he know me?”
One of the Nurses lifted a hand to wipe his face, giving Dean the opportunity to mock-lunge in response. The Nurse flinched and replaced his weight onto Dean’s shoulder again.
“He doesn’t - he’s just guessing,” Virgil struggled to maintain his composure.
“Oh, I’m gonna have some fun with her, boy. Plenty time to play when you’re at work all day.” A low, deep throated laugh rumbled deep within him...making the hair on Aaron’s neck tense up. And it could have been the light in the room, or the unusual angle he was lying at, but the Rookie could’ve sworn he’d seen Dean Winter’s eyes turn black...just then.
Virgil increased his weight onto his back, and head, forcing Dean’s face onto the bloodied floor.
“Give me the damn syringe!” Virgil hissed. Aaron stumbled forward to offer the dish. Virgil fumbled for it - pulled the lid off with his teeth, and positioned Dean’s arm to administer the drug.
“Yeah, that’s right, Virgin. You give the medication...if it makes you feel better,” Dean snarked. The beads of sweat on his upper lip mingling with the blood from his nose. “Of course, there’s no such thing as a virgin, is there...Virgin?” The syringe plunger descended. “’Cos in reality - life screws everyone.”
Virgil remained silent. Better not to rise to it. Other patients, sure...but this one had cost them dear over the past few weeks. That last shot was enough to down a horse. If Dean Winter kicked back from this round of meds, as soon as he’d saved his ass from another beating, Virgil was calling the National Enquirer.
*
“Robert Sableworth to see you, sir,” Aaron side stepped and gestured for Bobby to enter the Charge Nurse’s office. The Charge Nurse blinked in surprise.
“Uh...Mr Sableworth...I wasn’t told the State Inspector would be visiting today...”
“Well,” Bobby accepted his hand. A firm hold. “That’s kinda the point, isn’t it?” Without being offered, he took a seat.
The Charge Nurse hurredly stacked the case notes from his desk and placed them onto a chair, beside another mountain of case notes. Bobby remained unmoved.
“Uh...bit of an ‘off’ day I’m afraid.”
“So I hear. You’re staff levels are at maximum though, Mr Barker, I’m sure you have it all in hand.”
“It is now. The patient was finally subdued at a little after 3pm, and he’s recovering in the infirmary.”
“The infirmary?”
The Charge Nurse offered a nervous smile.
“Self harm, mainly. Although, he stabbed Nurse Langer with the leg of his plastic chair and took out a bank Nurse we’d just employed yesterday...” He trailed off.
“What’s the status now?”
“Uh...he’s subdued.”
Bobby narrowed his eyes. “When did you last check?”
The Charge Nurse almost flinched his response. He sifted some papers. “Last got a report, two hours ago.” He tried to sound confident.
“With a situation as serious as this, Mr Barker, I’d like a current status report...if you don’t mind.”
The Charge Nurse nodded, got up and promptly left the office.
Bobby pulled out his mobile.
“He’s in the infirmary. And for God’s sake, Sam...be careful.”
*
Sam breathed in a cleansing breath, designed to relax his shoulders, which he was aware, were hitched and tensed up around his ears it seemed. This whole thing was jacked. If they’d found Dean anywhere else in the world other than a god damned Intensive Psychiatric Unit - he could have been exorcised and free of that filthy Demon that owned him.
And the irony was that it was probably the vast cocktail of drugs Dean was being fed that was stopping the Demon from just vacating the host. No self respecting Demon would suffer voluntary incarceration once they’d ruined the hosts life. So many hosts, and so little time.
He pushed the ward door open and was immediately stopped in his tracks. On the floor lay the contorted body of a psych Nurse, blood blooming on his abdomen and thigh. A sickly trail of blood lead up the ward towards another Nurse huddled against a wall, knees hitched, a head wound, gaping and wet. She lifted her head, and signalled, wide eyed towards the other end of the ward. The window smashed - the bars mangled and splayed - and Dean standing in pale scrubs, breathing hard, eyes blackened - smile sick and smug.
“Dean!” he shouted, his legs propelling him forward despite the Nurse’s frantic signals to stay put.
From the window frame, Dean pulled a massive shard of glass from the debris and held it up to his wrist. Sam slid to a halt - his arm outstretched, his eyes wide with fear at his brother’s actions.
“You should really just let him go, you know,” Dean’s mouth, but not his voice.
“Don’t hurt him...please...”
“Awww,” Dead eyes attempted to smile. “Such concern from his widdle bro. Too little, too late, boy.”
And with that, he sliced his wrist with force and determination.
*
*
Chapter 5
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort - DeanWhump!
Content: R for violence and language.
Length: 4/5 complete
Summary: Sam wants his brother back...be careful what you wish for.
Chapter 4
*
*
*
The unit alarm screeched, its irritating tone only adding to the tension. The Charge Nurse lifted lazy eyes up towards the corridor outside.
Psych nurses running - all hands requested.
From Dean Winter’s room - the roar of descent, of hate, of ultimate, all consuming rage filtered back to the Nurse in his office. Stumbling from the room - Todd left a bloodied hand smear on the white corridor wall as he slid down it - the maelstrom of violence continuing despite him.
With a sigh, the Charge Nurse flipped open the plastic file and jabbed a fat finger into the number pad of his phone.
*
*
Bobby tugged at his sleeves and smoothed the lapels of his suit. He glanced out into the main room, to see Sam still hovering. Impatient.
The phone call had produced an eruption of activity in the otherwise quiet atmosphere of Bobby’s motel room. The psych unit had phoned Sam to postpone that day’s visit. Dean had relapsed.
No, they didn’t think tomorrow would suit.
Yes, there had been more violence.
Yes, people had been hospitalised...again.
No, there was nothing he could do, and if he turned up he’d be escorted from the unit. Bobby had never seen Sam so angry.
“They have no right to keep him from me!” he’d bellowed as he’d slammed the door shut behind him.
“They’re only doing their jobs, Sam,” he had offered, not expecting a reply.
“We need to get in there.”
“And we will,” Bobby had soothed. Now, as he smoothed down his hair and pocketed his new ID, he moved quickly through the empty room only to see Sam already sitting in the drivers seat, ready. He locked the door and jumped into the passenger seat of the Impala.
*
*
The Rookie hesitated at the sight before him.
Four psych nurses holding him down. Blood on the floor, on the padded walls. Inhuman screams of defiance, promising death to every one of them, the most horrific descriptions down to the last detail. This was the John Doe they’d all been talking about. Newly discovered by his brother as Dean Winters. How he pitied who ever Dean’s brother was.
He gripped the kidney dish tight, and was jolted into movement by Virgil’s persistent signalling to come closer.
“Don’t do it, Aaron!” Dean screamed, his neck cruelly contorted so he could see him. Aaron froze wide eyed at the use of his name. Virgil made eye contact with the other three nurses.
“Don’t listen to him, just give it too me,” Virgil said calmly.
“Think about your mother, boy. All alone in that house. When I break free...and I will...I ‘m gonna need somewhere to go...”
Aaron swallowed hard.
“Don’t listen to him!” Virgil repeated.
The rookie mesmerised by Dean’s words. “How...how does he know me?”
One of the Nurses lifted a hand to wipe his face, giving Dean the opportunity to mock-lunge in response. The Nurse flinched and replaced his weight onto Dean’s shoulder again.
“He doesn’t - he’s just guessing,” Virgil struggled to maintain his composure.
“Oh, I’m gonna have some fun with her, boy. Plenty time to play when you’re at work all day.” A low, deep throated laugh rumbled deep within him...making the hair on Aaron’s neck tense up. And it could have been the light in the room, or the unusual angle he was lying at, but the Rookie could’ve sworn he’d seen Dean Winter’s eyes turn black...just then.
Virgil increased his weight onto his back, and head, forcing Dean’s face onto the bloodied floor.
“Give me the damn syringe!” Virgil hissed. Aaron stumbled forward to offer the dish. Virgil fumbled for it - pulled the lid off with his teeth, and positioned Dean’s arm to administer the drug.
“Yeah, that’s right, Virgin. You give the medication...if it makes you feel better,” Dean snarked. The beads of sweat on his upper lip mingling with the blood from his nose. “Of course, there’s no such thing as a virgin, is there...Virgin?” The syringe plunger descended. “’Cos in reality - life screws everyone.”
Virgil remained silent. Better not to rise to it. Other patients, sure...but this one had cost them dear over the past few weeks. That last shot was enough to down a horse. If Dean Winter kicked back from this round of meds, as soon as he’d saved his ass from another beating, Virgil was calling the National Enquirer.
*
“Robert Sableworth to see you, sir,” Aaron side stepped and gestured for Bobby to enter the Charge Nurse’s office. The Charge Nurse blinked in surprise.
“Uh...Mr Sableworth...I wasn’t told the State Inspector would be visiting today...”
“Well,” Bobby accepted his hand. A firm hold. “That’s kinda the point, isn’t it?” Without being offered, he took a seat.
The Charge Nurse hurredly stacked the case notes from his desk and placed them onto a chair, beside another mountain of case notes. Bobby remained unmoved.
“Uh...bit of an ‘off’ day I’m afraid.”
“So I hear. You’re staff levels are at maximum though, Mr Barker, I’m sure you have it all in hand.”
“It is now. The patient was finally subdued at a little after 3pm, and he’s recovering in the infirmary.”
“The infirmary?”
The Charge Nurse offered a nervous smile.
“Self harm, mainly. Although, he stabbed Nurse Langer with the leg of his plastic chair and took out a bank Nurse we’d just employed yesterday...” He trailed off.
“What’s the status now?”
“Uh...he’s subdued.”
Bobby narrowed his eyes. “When did you last check?”
The Charge Nurse almost flinched his response. He sifted some papers. “Last got a report, two hours ago.” He tried to sound confident.
“With a situation as serious as this, Mr Barker, I’d like a current status report...if you don’t mind.”
The Charge Nurse nodded, got up and promptly left the office.
Bobby pulled out his mobile.
“He’s in the infirmary. And for God’s sake, Sam...be careful.”
*
Sam breathed in a cleansing breath, designed to relax his shoulders, which he was aware, were hitched and tensed up around his ears it seemed. This whole thing was jacked. If they’d found Dean anywhere else in the world other than a god damned Intensive Psychiatric Unit - he could have been exorcised and free of that filthy Demon that owned him.
And the irony was that it was probably the vast cocktail of drugs Dean was being fed that was stopping the Demon from just vacating the host. No self respecting Demon would suffer voluntary incarceration once they’d ruined the hosts life. So many hosts, and so little time.
He pushed the ward door open and was immediately stopped in his tracks. On the floor lay the contorted body of a psych Nurse, blood blooming on his abdomen and thigh. A sickly trail of blood lead up the ward towards another Nurse huddled against a wall, knees hitched, a head wound, gaping and wet. She lifted her head, and signalled, wide eyed towards the other end of the ward. The window smashed - the bars mangled and splayed - and Dean standing in pale scrubs, breathing hard, eyes blackened - smile sick and smug.
“Dean!” he shouted, his legs propelling him forward despite the Nurse’s frantic signals to stay put.
From the window frame, Dean pulled a massive shard of glass from the debris and held it up to his wrist. Sam slid to a halt - his arm outstretched, his eyes wide with fear at his brother’s actions.
“You should really just let him go, you know,” Dean’s mouth, but not his voice.
“Don’t hurt him...please...”
“Awww,” Dead eyes attempted to smile. “Such concern from his widdle bro. Too little, too late, boy.”
And with that, he sliced his wrist with force and determination.
*
*
Chapter 5