Fic: Silent Healing 1/2 (SPN/CSI:M - FRM - Tim/Dean)
Title: Silent Healing
Author: Bj Jones
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. They are owned by various executives, producers, writers, and studios that have more lawyers than I want to mess with. I’m not making any money, and promise to return them once I’ve had my wicked way with them.
Summary: After the demon destroys Dean’s hearing - he’s sent to rehab to relearn how to live in a world of silence
Beta: Lynn (Janet)
Genre: Slash - for a moment between Tim/Dean
Series: Mind for Seeing; Heart for Hearing - My Lj is Friends Only.
Author’s Note: This technically takes place in the first part of Silent Hunter. If you were to read the series in order it would be Silent Healing, Silent Witness, Silent Hunter. There will be more stories in this universe.
2nd Author’s Note: I was inspired by this idea. I’m not deaf, and I don’t claim to fully understand the world they live in. I hope this is taken as an inspiration it’s supposed to be. To clarify before the story starts - when you see dialogue with single quotes ‘’ it’s conversation in ASL (American Sign Language) - the conversations are in ‘proper English’. Yes I do know ASL isn’t ‘proper English’. Italicized ‘’ are conversations over tty/phone/Blackberries or written on paper.
~ Silent Hunter ~
He laid his head back against the pillow, a tear running down his cheek. The cruel words echoed in his head; he knew the demon had spoken the truth. Dean had always given everything for his family, and in return he had been left by the side of the road. He angrily wiped away the tear and focused on what had to be done. He needed to contact Bobby and let him know the demon had dad. But first he needed to get out of the hospital.
He sat up carefully to survey his injuries. His chest and abdomen were sore and bandaged heavily. Cracked ribs but no broken bones, that’s good, he thought. He pulled out the I.V., un-hooked the monitors and got out of the bed. Stumbling slightly, he steadied himself on the wall and moved into the bathroom to get a look at his injuries.
Well, Dean, you look like shit. He shook his head then moaned at the pain shooting down his neck.
Looked like he was walking out of here with the clothes he had on, the ones he had been wearing must have been destroyed. He stepped into the hallway and looked around. He headed for the elevators, avoiding the nurses’ station. As he approached them, he realized something was terribly off. He stopped and looked around; the hospital was too quiet. The elevator door opened, revealing a nurse and a doctor. Both looked at him and moved towards him.
Dean frowned, his eyes narrowing. He could see them talking but couldn’t... He backed up his head shaking. The doctor grabbed him; he began to struggle as more nurses began to run down the hallway. Dean screamed with all his might, but the world had gone silent.
~ Silent Healing ~
Dean lay down on the bed, holding back the tears. The nurse knelt down next to him, making sure he could see her. She grabbed a notepad and wrote a few things, then turned it around.
'I'm going to put your IV back in. It shouldn't take too long.'
He didn't respond. His world had been completely destroyed. Dean shifted just enough so she could do her job, but didn't respond to her looks or comforting touches. She grabbed the pad again and wrote something down.
'Do you want me to call anyone?'
Dean looked at the note. He sure as hell wasn't calling his father. He had no idea if he was free of the demon. Didn't want to give the bastard a chance to finish the job. Bobby was out of the question though he knew the older man would be there in moments, but he would call John.
He took the pen and wrote down, 'Sammy.'
The nurse looked at it, then wrote under it. 'He's in your phone?'
He nodded then curled back onto his side. Dean could feel the drugs going through his system and soon faded off to sleep.
~*~
He waited.
Asked if they had called the right number. Nurse Emma nodded and patted his arm sympathetically.
He waited for a week watching the door every time he felt a brush of air, disappointment filling him when a nurse or doctor walked into the room.
He waited, but in the end Sammy never came. It was the first time since he had discovered the loss of his hearing that he openly cried.
Dean let the tears run their course, grieved for a life he had once lived. The demon might as well have killed him. Dean Winchester, the man he was, was gone and buried. He wiped the tears from his face and buried the pain deep down. Screw them. If they didn't care enough to help him now, then they weren't worth caring about. He was done being daddy's little soldier and protecting little Sammy. He took a deep breath, and got out of the bed. He looked in the mirror. The man who stared back at him was a stranger. It wasn't fair. All he had ever wanted was his family. All he got was grief, pain, and rejection. His own parents didn't want him. Sam decided Dean wasn't worth his time away from his precious normal. The demon destroyed his life. He slammed his fist into the mirror and screamed with all his might, though all he heard was silence.
He felt hands pulling at him, dragging him away from the mirror. He struggled, trying to get away, he knocked the orderly over and pulled away slumping against the wall. Blood dripped down his arms onto the floor. He jerked as he felt a hand on his face, he looked up into the soft brown eyes of Nurse Emma. She smiled at him and sat down in front of him. She took his hands and began to clean the wounds. Dean could see her lips moving; she was chatting away like this was any normal situation. He focused on her lips, trying to distinguish the words.
Dean snorted and grinned shaking his head.
Emma looked at him, head tilt. "Did you understand me?"
He frowned, concentrating on her lips.
She slowed her movements down slightly. "Do you understand me?"
Dean nodded slightly, then looked at the pad of paper. She grabbed it and handed it to him, ignoring the blood still dripping on the floor. Dean quickly wrote a few words down and showed her.
'I've been called worse than a stubborn asshole.'
Emma smiled brightly. "Not surprised."
Dean gave her a tiny shrug. He leaned his head back and let her deal with his wounds. He knew she kept on rambling away, but for some reason it comforted him.
~*~
Emma sat down at his bed and pulled out her pad. Dean frowned, he knew this wasn't good. She had that look on her face, the one that all mother hens had. The one that said I'm going to tell you something you're not going to like.
She handed him the pad.
'They are going to transfer you to upstate New York, to a rehab center for the Deaf.'
Dean shook his head.
"It will be good for you."
He frowned though he had been watching her as she rambled on about her day while she took care of him, Dean could only get a few words out of a dozen at least. Sometimes he could figure what she was saying, other times he was completely lost.
'It will be good for you.'
Dean snarled and grabbed the pad. 'I don't want to go. I can take care of myself.'
"Oh really." She eyed him then got up from the bed and turned her back. Dean frowned when she turned back around. "And what did I just say?"
He was seriously tempted to flip her off. 'No.'
She glared at him, and grabbed the pad. 'You have no choice.'
'I can't afford rehab.'
'It's paid for.'
Dean blinked and looked up at her confused.
Emma sat back down and wrote out on the pad. 'Dean you need to learn to function in this world.'
He grabbed the pen and wrote furiously. 'Why?'
She leaned over and cupped his cheeks and made him look at her. "Because you are stronger than this."
He tried to pull away but she held on. "Dean Winchester. You have survived a hell of an ordeal and you will survive this, and one day you will come back to tell me how wonderful I am."
Dean watched her lips studying them, trying to understand the words. He looked up into her eyes and saw how much she truly cared. He nodded.
She kissed him on the forehead. Grabbed the pad. 'By the way. Because I love you...your car is safe in my garage.'
He stared at the pad then back up at her, grabbing the pen from her. 'You found her?'
'Right where you left it. I had them tow it to my house, its safely sitting in my garage. Though I think Demon loves it.'
Dean froze, hands shaking just looking at the word. Emma frowned. "Dean?" She touched him her face full of concern.
He picked up the pen. 'Demon?'
She laughed, and mimicked a hissing cat, then wrote out. 'My cat. Big old softie who rules the neighborhood. He likes lying on the hood of your car.'
Dean wasn't sure if he should laugh or plot the cat’s demise.
~ New York - Rehab Center ~
He already hated it. Dean looked up at the old building and frowned. Ten to one odds there was some ghost floating around. When would people learn not to take old asylums and make them into modern hospital/rehab centers? He was dropped off at the front desk and left alone. Dean stared at the front door. He could just walk out and never look back. He could see the grassy front lawn and street below. A hand landed on his shoulder, he startled, grabbed the hand and had the guy down on the floor, foot at his throat.
Two orderlies rushed him, Dean let the guy go and backed up, his stance ready to fight. The two men stopped, turned and looked at the newcomer. Dean focused his eyes on the man. He was smaller than Dean, but he could read the hunter in him. This was a man who had fought in combat or seen it.
The man stepped up and began to sign as he spoke to Dean. He shook his head not understanding what he was asking. He pulled a pad and paper out.
'What's your name?'
Dean just stared at him, not making a move for the paper.
'Stubborn one aren't you.'
He had to smirk slightly. He took the pen out of his hand. 'Dean Winchester.'
The man smiled and reached over the counter and grabbed a folder, handing it to him. Dean looked down to see the worlds 'Welcome to Sunnydale Rehab'. Dean looked up and his eyebrow rose as he turned the folder around and pointed at the name. The man laughed, and motioned him to follow. Dean picked up his bag and followed him. He didn't want to be here, but whoever this guy was...he had a good feeling about him.
~*~
Timothy Speedle settled Dean into his room and then headed back to his own rooms. Dean Winchester wasn't going to be an easy person to retrain. Tim was supposed to be leaving in a few weeks, and had no intention of taking on a new patient. He had been walking to the library when he saw them drop Dean off at the front desk, alone. That was always a great idea, leave someone who had just lost their hearing in a new place with no one around. Tim had stood back and watched him for a while. He could see him debating on leaving. There was no doubt in his mind that Dean was haunted, by what he wasn't sure. When he saw Chad walk up and place a hand on Dean's shoulder he knew it was going to go down bad. He would have thought Chad would have learned when he did the same thing to Tim when he first arrived, ending up flat on his back.
Obviously not.
Tim rushed into the scene to make sure the orderlies didn't get any broken bones. Dean wasn’t a soldier, that Tim could tell, but he knew how to fight. He could see the anger, resentment, and even fear buried deep in those green eyes. Dean Winchester had his walls up extremely high, but Tim was persistent. Fine, he was as stubborn as they come. He hadn’t gotten to be a Captain in Delta Force waiting for things to come to him.
Mind made up, the ex-soldier made his way to the director of the center; he was going to extend his time but it wasn't like he had a job waiting for him. In the past year and a half he had brushed up on his academics and re-tested in a few areas. Once he finished the last test, he would be a certified Trace Technician and could start looking into applying at Crime Labs throughout the country. He knocked on the door before opening it slightly and sticking his head in.
"Hey Jeremy got a minute?"
The director looked up and smiled. "For you Tim I got a whole five minutes." He leaned back in his chair tossing the pen onto his desk.
"You're using me as an excuse not to do your paperwork," Tim sat down across from him.
"Busted." He smirked. "What can I do for you?"
"New patient just came in, Dean Winchester."
"I just looked over his transfer papers," He pulled out the file and handed it to Tim. "He was found in a sleazy hotel room, beaten almost to death. The bones in his ear were snapped in half."
"How does that happen in a fight?" Tim asked curiously. It just didn't add up. He had seen knock down, drag-out fights in Afghanistan and no one had ever lost their hearing. A few blows to the head had done more damage to eyesight than hearing.
"They aren't sure. The end result though, is he's deaf." Jeremy sighed. "And from what the doctors there stated, he's not taking it well."
"Ah no." Tim shook his head handing back the report. "He doesn't want to be here, he's got walls up and is pissed as hell."
"You've met him?" Jeremy asked curiously. "I thought you were leaving in a few days."
"Chad walked up to him unexpectedly...."
"You would think he would have learned by now, that's like the fifth guy that's floored him," he paused. "Or is it sixth?"
Timothy laughed. "I want his case."
"You're leaving." Jeremy pointed out.
"I'll stay on for it."
Jeremy sat back and looked at the younger man, he frowned and then signed. 'Why?'
'Because he reminds me of me.' Speedle signed back. 'He's not going to listen to the ‘enlightenment and accepting of ones disability’ spiel. This man is a soldier...'
Jeremy looked down at the folder. "There’s no indication he was in the military," he spoke.
"He's not a trained soldier, but he's got the mentality and defense mechanisms. Hell, the only reason I didn't kill Chad is because I'm a sweet loving person."
The director snorted. "You think you can help him?"
'I'll have some bruises by the end, but I think I can.' He slipped back into sign.
Jeremy nodded. "I'll assign you the case."
"Thanks." Timothy stood and gave him a quick wave.
Jeremy looked at the case file once again; there was differently something different about the case, but he couldn't but his finger on it. He leaned back and looked over at the picture of his parents.
When his mother had started to lose her hearing, his father decided to do everything in his power to save it. His father had never given up hope, and was determined if his wife was going to have to learn to operate in a silent world, she would learn from the best. Only to find out that there were few centers out there to help the deaf. His father was livid and had ranted and raved. He remembered his mom smacking him and flat out told him well if he didn't like it to fix it. So he quit his job and took their savings and started a center for the deaf. His father and mother fought hard to make the center a place for all, not just those who were deaf but their families as well. A place to learn to communicate, how to handle a hearing world, and a place to learn how to deal with someone in your life that was deaf.
Jeremy had taken over when his father died five years ago. He had never regretted it. He had met his wife at the center. She was born deaf to hearing parents, for years they had hidden her disability and amazingly she had learned how to get through life without anyone knowing she couldn't hear. When she graduated, she had come to the center wanting to learn more about the deaf world. Soon she was working for them, teaching the younger kids. Jeremy glanced at the clock, put his pen down and decided to find his wife and go have lunch. Maybe later he would stop by and see this Dean Winchester. If it got Tim to stay ... he was someone worth meeting.
~*~
Dean tossed his bag onto the table and looked over the small room. It was actually pretty nice, considering some of the crap places he had stayed in over the years. There was a full bed, with an actual handmade quilt laying over it, which took up half the room. The other half had a couch, stand with TV, and a desk. There was a small closet and a bathroom. He poked his head into the bathroom, shower, sink and toilet. Yep, definitely better than some of the dives he had stayed in.
He opened his bag and stared, neatly folded laundry stared back at him. He hadn't seen his laundry folded neatly since...he staggered back and sat down on the bed. Since he was four. He took a deep breath stood up and focused back on unpacking; he frowned when he pulled out a small wrapped package.
He set it down on the table and opened the envelope.
Dean,
Be nice. Don't beat up any of the other patients. I will drive up there and smack you.
All kidding aside. Take this opportunity and run with it.
I hope this will keep you inspired.
Love,
Emma
PS I don't know why you have them, but I have a feeling you will feel better having them with you.
At the bottom of his bag was his 9mm Glock and knife. He really did owe Emma a lot. Grinning, he ripped into the package with gusto, and for the first time in weeks he actually laughed. She knew he needed his baby. She had taken a picture of the Impala with the biggest cat he had ever seen laying across its hood. He set the photo on the nightstand. Dean sat on the bed and looked around the room. Is this what had become of his life? A sterile room. No family. Alone with only a picture of a car and a cat to keep him company. Emotions overwhelming him, he curled up on the bed holding his pillow tight. He was truly alone.
~ Next Morning ~
Dean was just finishing with his morning routine when he saw the lights flicker. Startled slightly he backed out of the bathroom, heading for his bed. The door opened as his hands settled on the Glock. The man he had seen yesterday was standing in front of him a bit shocked to have a gun in his face. Dean cursed. How could he tell if a demon was around not like he could yell ... wait.
"Christo."
Tim just looked at him weirdly, then smiled. "You spoke."
Dean frowned and lowered the gun. Well, he wasn't a demon but what was up with the flickering lights?
"Why do you have a gun?"
He looked down at the weapon, then backed up shrugging slightly. He set it back under his pillow, giving a glare to the man making his point. That gun had better be there later. Dean grabbed his jeans and slipped them on, before pulling on a t-shirt.
"I didn't introduce myself yesterday," Tim signed and spoke at the same time. "I'm Timothy Speedle..."
Dean grabbed the pad of paper and wrote furiously, pushing it into Tim's hands.
'How can I figure what your saying when your hands are distracting me.'
"You read lips?" Tim asked looking right at him.
He had been starting to figure things out; he still didn't get it all the time, but he was now more away of what was going on around him. Dean shrugged but didn't add anything.
Speedle wrote down his name and handed the pad to Dean, took it back added on that he was ex Delta Force. Dean's eyebrow rose slightly at the addition. His respect for the guy went up slightly. John had talked about men he knew that were Delta Force, they were some hard ass soldiers. He couldn't help but wonder if he would be good at hunting.
"Come on, let’s show you around this place," Tim signed as he spoke. "Get used to it; signing will be your main source of communication."
Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket then grabbed a pen and notebook.
Tim looked over towards the bed then back at him, "I'm not going to ask about the Glock."
Dean smirked as he wrote, then turned the page towards him. 'I'm not going to tell you.'
Speedle had his work cut out for him.
~*~
Well if there was one thing Timothy Speedle could say about Dean Winchester was that he was a stubborn asshole. He kinda admired it, when it wasn't annoying him. Dean was able to follow a conversation easily with reading lips, this was a plus. He still hadn't cracked a book on ASL, that wasn't a plus.
Tim threw his pen down and glared at the young man across from his desk.
"You're going to have to learn this."
Dean just stared at him.
"How do you expect to find work?"
Dean just shrugged. Not like there were people in his profession that communicated by sign. All he needed to know was how to find the evil bitches, dig them up, salt and burn them. At least he won't have to hear the spirits screaming as they got dragged into hell.
"What do you do for work?"
Dean just stared at him.
"I never thought I would see the day that someone would out stubborn Captain Timothy Speedle." Jeremy shook his head. "This is like a moment for the history books."
Timothy just glared at him. "Can I help you?"
"Just checking on the process, and to let you now Lydia has an idea to help you with the stubborn person..."
Dean frowned as he felt a shiver suddenly come over him. He looked around the room, but nothing seemed off. He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he looked over to Timothy.
"Are you okay?"
Dean nodded then looked around for the Director; he turned back to Speedle a question on his face.
"Had to go to a meeting, but he wants you to take classes with Lydia, his wife."
He grabbed the pen and paper. 'What for?'
Tim shrugged. "No idea..." he choked suddenly, coughing. He grabbed for his throat trying to get whatever got lodged out.
Dean reacted instantly; he jumped up and reached towards Tim, his hand going over his throat. The cold shiver ran through him again. He pushed him back from the desk and began rummaging through it.
Speedle reached out to him, trying to figure out what he was doing. The soldier in him was fighting desperately for air, trying to gulp in any amount. His eyes never left the young man, wondering if just maybe he had read him wrong, and he was trying to kill him.
Dean pulled the hex bag from the desk and grabbed the lighter out of his jacket and quickly lit it on fire.
Tim coughed, then gulped down lung full of air. He looked over at Dean. "What the hell just happened?"
Dean turned towards him. "Witches." He frowned then grabbed a pen.
"I heard you fine," he took the pen out of his hand. "You speak fine."
He shook his head, and reached for the pen.
Tim held it away from him. "Tell me in words. You know what they sound like..."
"It was a hex bag," Dean ran a hand over his face. "Some witch cursed you."
"Witch as in like witch?"
Dean nodded. He had felt something just before it happened. Did the demon do something more to him? "I burned the hex bag so you should be safe."
"I don't understand." Timothy stared at him. "You're talking magic."
He nodded.
"But that doesn't exist..." He looked over at the burnt remains on his desk. He reached over and dug through the ashes. Studying what was left. Timothy had felt the choking, saw the bag burn, felt it stop. The evidence was there. He looked back at Dean. "What does this mean?"
"We need to find the witch," Dean said.
"Then what?" Speedle asked.
Dean just shrugged and picked up the pen and paper. 'Stop her.'
Timothy sat down in his chair, and couldn't help but wonder how did you stop a witch?
Part 2
Author: Bj Jones
Rating: FRM
Disclaimer: I don’t own them. They are owned by various executives, producers, writers, and studios that have more lawyers than I want to mess with. I’m not making any money, and promise to return them once I’ve had my wicked way with them.
Summary: After the demon destroys Dean’s hearing - he’s sent to rehab to relearn how to live in a world of silence
Beta: Lynn (Janet)
Genre: Slash - for a moment between Tim/Dean
Series: Mind for Seeing; Heart for Hearing - My Lj is Friends Only.
Author’s Note: This technically takes place in the first part of Silent Hunter. If you were to read the series in order it would be Silent Healing, Silent Witness, Silent Hunter. There will be more stories in this universe.
2nd Author’s Note: I was inspired by this idea. I’m not deaf, and I don’t claim to fully understand the world they live in. I hope this is taken as an inspiration it’s supposed to be. To clarify before the story starts - when you see dialogue with single quotes ‘’ it’s conversation in ASL (American Sign Language) - the conversations are in ‘proper English’. Yes I do know ASL isn’t ‘proper English’. Italicized ‘’ are conversations over tty/phone/Blackberries or written on paper.
~ Silent Hunter ~
He laid his head back against the pillow, a tear running down his cheek. The cruel words echoed in his head; he knew the demon had spoken the truth. Dean had always given everything for his family, and in return he had been left by the side of the road. He angrily wiped away the tear and focused on what had to be done. He needed to contact Bobby and let him know the demon had dad. But first he needed to get out of the hospital.
He sat up carefully to survey his injuries. His chest and abdomen were sore and bandaged heavily. Cracked ribs but no broken bones, that’s good, he thought. He pulled out the I.V., un-hooked the monitors and got out of the bed. Stumbling slightly, he steadied himself on the wall and moved into the bathroom to get a look at his injuries.
Well, Dean, you look like shit. He shook his head then moaned at the pain shooting down his neck.
Looked like he was walking out of here with the clothes he had on, the ones he had been wearing must have been destroyed. He stepped into the hallway and looked around. He headed for the elevators, avoiding the nurses’ station. As he approached them, he realized something was terribly off. He stopped and looked around; the hospital was too quiet. The elevator door opened, revealing a nurse and a doctor. Both looked at him and moved towards him.
Dean frowned, his eyes narrowing. He could see them talking but couldn’t... He backed up his head shaking. The doctor grabbed him; he began to struggle as more nurses began to run down the hallway. Dean screamed with all his might, but the world had gone silent.
~ Silent Healing ~
Dean lay down on the bed, holding back the tears. The nurse knelt down next to him, making sure he could see her. She grabbed a notepad and wrote a few things, then turned it around.
'I'm going to put your IV back in. It shouldn't take too long.'
He didn't respond. His world had been completely destroyed. Dean shifted just enough so she could do her job, but didn't respond to her looks or comforting touches. She grabbed the pad again and wrote something down.
'Do you want me to call anyone?'
Dean looked at the note. He sure as hell wasn't calling his father. He had no idea if he was free of the demon. Didn't want to give the bastard a chance to finish the job. Bobby was out of the question though he knew the older man would be there in moments, but he would call John.
He took the pen and wrote down, 'Sammy.'
The nurse looked at it, then wrote under it. 'He's in your phone?'
He nodded then curled back onto his side. Dean could feel the drugs going through his system and soon faded off to sleep.
~*~
He waited.
Asked if they had called the right number. Nurse Emma nodded and patted his arm sympathetically.
He waited for a week watching the door every time he felt a brush of air, disappointment filling him when a nurse or doctor walked into the room.
He waited, but in the end Sammy never came. It was the first time since he had discovered the loss of his hearing that he openly cried.
Dean let the tears run their course, grieved for a life he had once lived. The demon might as well have killed him. Dean Winchester, the man he was, was gone and buried. He wiped the tears from his face and buried the pain deep down. Screw them. If they didn't care enough to help him now, then they weren't worth caring about. He was done being daddy's little soldier and protecting little Sammy. He took a deep breath, and got out of the bed. He looked in the mirror. The man who stared back at him was a stranger. It wasn't fair. All he had ever wanted was his family. All he got was grief, pain, and rejection. His own parents didn't want him. Sam decided Dean wasn't worth his time away from his precious normal. The demon destroyed his life. He slammed his fist into the mirror and screamed with all his might, though all he heard was silence.
He felt hands pulling at him, dragging him away from the mirror. He struggled, trying to get away, he knocked the orderly over and pulled away slumping against the wall. Blood dripped down his arms onto the floor. He jerked as he felt a hand on his face, he looked up into the soft brown eyes of Nurse Emma. She smiled at him and sat down in front of him. She took his hands and began to clean the wounds. Dean could see her lips moving; she was chatting away like this was any normal situation. He focused on her lips, trying to distinguish the words.
Dean snorted and grinned shaking his head.
Emma looked at him, head tilt. "Did you understand me?"
He frowned, concentrating on her lips.
She slowed her movements down slightly. "Do you understand me?"
Dean nodded slightly, then looked at the pad of paper. She grabbed it and handed it to him, ignoring the blood still dripping on the floor. Dean quickly wrote a few words down and showed her.
'I've been called worse than a stubborn asshole.'
Emma smiled brightly. "Not surprised."
Dean gave her a tiny shrug. He leaned his head back and let her deal with his wounds. He knew she kept on rambling away, but for some reason it comforted him.
~*~
Emma sat down at his bed and pulled out her pad. Dean frowned, he knew this wasn't good. She had that look on her face, the one that all mother hens had. The one that said I'm going to tell you something you're not going to like.
She handed him the pad.
'They are going to transfer you to upstate New York, to a rehab center for the Deaf.'
Dean shook his head.
"It will be good for you."
He frowned though he had been watching her as she rambled on about her day while she took care of him, Dean could only get a few words out of a dozen at least. Sometimes he could figure what she was saying, other times he was completely lost.
'It will be good for you.'
Dean snarled and grabbed the pad. 'I don't want to go. I can take care of myself.'
"Oh really." She eyed him then got up from the bed and turned her back. Dean frowned when she turned back around. "And what did I just say?"
He was seriously tempted to flip her off. 'No.'
She glared at him, and grabbed the pad. 'You have no choice.'
'I can't afford rehab.'
'It's paid for.'
Dean blinked and looked up at her confused.
Emma sat back down and wrote out on the pad. 'Dean you need to learn to function in this world.'
He grabbed the pen and wrote furiously. 'Why?'
She leaned over and cupped his cheeks and made him look at her. "Because you are stronger than this."
He tried to pull away but she held on. "Dean Winchester. You have survived a hell of an ordeal and you will survive this, and one day you will come back to tell me how wonderful I am."
Dean watched her lips studying them, trying to understand the words. He looked up into her eyes and saw how much she truly cared. He nodded.
She kissed him on the forehead. Grabbed the pad. 'By the way. Because I love you...your car is safe in my garage.'
He stared at the pad then back up at her, grabbing the pen from her. 'You found her?'
'Right where you left it. I had them tow it to my house, its safely sitting in my garage. Though I think Demon loves it.'
Dean froze, hands shaking just looking at the word. Emma frowned. "Dean?" She touched him her face full of concern.
He picked up the pen. 'Demon?'
She laughed, and mimicked a hissing cat, then wrote out. 'My cat. Big old softie who rules the neighborhood. He likes lying on the hood of your car.'
Dean wasn't sure if he should laugh or plot the cat’s demise.
~ New York - Rehab Center ~
He already hated it. Dean looked up at the old building and frowned. Ten to one odds there was some ghost floating around. When would people learn not to take old asylums and make them into modern hospital/rehab centers? He was dropped off at the front desk and left alone. Dean stared at the front door. He could just walk out and never look back. He could see the grassy front lawn and street below. A hand landed on his shoulder, he startled, grabbed the hand and had the guy down on the floor, foot at his throat.
Two orderlies rushed him, Dean let the guy go and backed up, his stance ready to fight. The two men stopped, turned and looked at the newcomer. Dean focused his eyes on the man. He was smaller than Dean, but he could read the hunter in him. This was a man who had fought in combat or seen it.
The man stepped up and began to sign as he spoke to Dean. He shook his head not understanding what he was asking. He pulled a pad and paper out.
'What's your name?'
Dean just stared at him, not making a move for the paper.
'Stubborn one aren't you.'
He had to smirk slightly. He took the pen out of his hand. 'Dean Winchester.'
The man smiled and reached over the counter and grabbed a folder, handing it to him. Dean looked down to see the worlds 'Welcome to Sunnydale Rehab'. Dean looked up and his eyebrow rose as he turned the folder around and pointed at the name. The man laughed, and motioned him to follow. Dean picked up his bag and followed him. He didn't want to be here, but whoever this guy was...he had a good feeling about him.
~*~
Timothy Speedle settled Dean into his room and then headed back to his own rooms. Dean Winchester wasn't going to be an easy person to retrain. Tim was supposed to be leaving in a few weeks, and had no intention of taking on a new patient. He had been walking to the library when he saw them drop Dean off at the front desk, alone. That was always a great idea, leave someone who had just lost their hearing in a new place with no one around. Tim had stood back and watched him for a while. He could see him debating on leaving. There was no doubt in his mind that Dean was haunted, by what he wasn't sure. When he saw Chad walk up and place a hand on Dean's shoulder he knew it was going to go down bad. He would have thought Chad would have learned when he did the same thing to Tim when he first arrived, ending up flat on his back.
Obviously not.
Tim rushed into the scene to make sure the orderlies didn't get any broken bones. Dean wasn’t a soldier, that Tim could tell, but he knew how to fight. He could see the anger, resentment, and even fear buried deep in those green eyes. Dean Winchester had his walls up extremely high, but Tim was persistent. Fine, he was as stubborn as they come. He hadn’t gotten to be a Captain in Delta Force waiting for things to come to him.
Mind made up, the ex-soldier made his way to the director of the center; he was going to extend his time but it wasn't like he had a job waiting for him. In the past year and a half he had brushed up on his academics and re-tested in a few areas. Once he finished the last test, he would be a certified Trace Technician and could start looking into applying at Crime Labs throughout the country. He knocked on the door before opening it slightly and sticking his head in.
"Hey Jeremy got a minute?"
The director looked up and smiled. "For you Tim I got a whole five minutes." He leaned back in his chair tossing the pen onto his desk.
"You're using me as an excuse not to do your paperwork," Tim sat down across from him.
"Busted." He smirked. "What can I do for you?"
"New patient just came in, Dean Winchester."
"I just looked over his transfer papers," He pulled out the file and handed it to Tim. "He was found in a sleazy hotel room, beaten almost to death. The bones in his ear were snapped in half."
"How does that happen in a fight?" Tim asked curiously. It just didn't add up. He had seen knock down, drag-out fights in Afghanistan and no one had ever lost their hearing. A few blows to the head had done more damage to eyesight than hearing.
"They aren't sure. The end result though, is he's deaf." Jeremy sighed. "And from what the doctors there stated, he's not taking it well."
"Ah no." Tim shook his head handing back the report. "He doesn't want to be here, he's got walls up and is pissed as hell."
"You've met him?" Jeremy asked curiously. "I thought you were leaving in a few days."
"Chad walked up to him unexpectedly...."
"You would think he would have learned by now, that's like the fifth guy that's floored him," he paused. "Or is it sixth?"
Timothy laughed. "I want his case."
"You're leaving." Jeremy pointed out.
"I'll stay on for it."
Jeremy sat back and looked at the younger man, he frowned and then signed. 'Why?'
'Because he reminds me of me.' Speedle signed back. 'He's not going to listen to the ‘enlightenment and accepting of ones disability’ spiel. This man is a soldier...'
Jeremy looked down at the folder. "There’s no indication he was in the military," he spoke.
"He's not a trained soldier, but he's got the mentality and defense mechanisms. Hell, the only reason I didn't kill Chad is because I'm a sweet loving person."
The director snorted. "You think you can help him?"
'I'll have some bruises by the end, but I think I can.' He slipped back into sign.
Jeremy nodded. "I'll assign you the case."
"Thanks." Timothy stood and gave him a quick wave.
Jeremy looked at the case file once again; there was differently something different about the case, but he couldn't but his finger on it. He leaned back and looked over at the picture of his parents.
When his mother had started to lose her hearing, his father decided to do everything in his power to save it. His father had never given up hope, and was determined if his wife was going to have to learn to operate in a silent world, she would learn from the best. Only to find out that there were few centers out there to help the deaf. His father was livid and had ranted and raved. He remembered his mom smacking him and flat out told him well if he didn't like it to fix it. So he quit his job and took their savings and started a center for the deaf. His father and mother fought hard to make the center a place for all, not just those who were deaf but their families as well. A place to learn to communicate, how to handle a hearing world, and a place to learn how to deal with someone in your life that was deaf.
Jeremy had taken over when his father died five years ago. He had never regretted it. He had met his wife at the center. She was born deaf to hearing parents, for years they had hidden her disability and amazingly she had learned how to get through life without anyone knowing she couldn't hear. When she graduated, she had come to the center wanting to learn more about the deaf world. Soon she was working for them, teaching the younger kids. Jeremy glanced at the clock, put his pen down and decided to find his wife and go have lunch. Maybe later he would stop by and see this Dean Winchester. If it got Tim to stay ... he was someone worth meeting.
~*~
Dean tossed his bag onto the table and looked over the small room. It was actually pretty nice, considering some of the crap places he had stayed in over the years. There was a full bed, with an actual handmade quilt laying over it, which took up half the room. The other half had a couch, stand with TV, and a desk. There was a small closet and a bathroom. He poked his head into the bathroom, shower, sink and toilet. Yep, definitely better than some of the dives he had stayed in.
He opened his bag and stared, neatly folded laundry stared back at him. He hadn't seen his laundry folded neatly since...he staggered back and sat down on the bed. Since he was four. He took a deep breath stood up and focused back on unpacking; he frowned when he pulled out a small wrapped package.
He set it down on the table and opened the envelope.
Dean,
Be nice. Don't beat up any of the other patients. I will drive up there and smack you.
All kidding aside. Take this opportunity and run with it.
I hope this will keep you inspired.
Love,
Emma
PS I don't know why you have them, but I have a feeling you will feel better having them with you.
At the bottom of his bag was his 9mm Glock and knife. He really did owe Emma a lot. Grinning, he ripped into the package with gusto, and for the first time in weeks he actually laughed. She knew he needed his baby. She had taken a picture of the Impala with the biggest cat he had ever seen laying across its hood. He set the photo on the nightstand. Dean sat on the bed and looked around the room. Is this what had become of his life? A sterile room. No family. Alone with only a picture of a car and a cat to keep him company. Emotions overwhelming him, he curled up on the bed holding his pillow tight. He was truly alone.
~ Next Morning ~
Dean was just finishing with his morning routine when he saw the lights flicker. Startled slightly he backed out of the bathroom, heading for his bed. The door opened as his hands settled on the Glock. The man he had seen yesterday was standing in front of him a bit shocked to have a gun in his face. Dean cursed. How could he tell if a demon was around not like he could yell ... wait.
"Christo."
Tim just looked at him weirdly, then smiled. "You spoke."
Dean frowned and lowered the gun. Well, he wasn't a demon but what was up with the flickering lights?
"Why do you have a gun?"
He looked down at the weapon, then backed up shrugging slightly. He set it back under his pillow, giving a glare to the man making his point. That gun had better be there later. Dean grabbed his jeans and slipped them on, before pulling on a t-shirt.
"I didn't introduce myself yesterday," Tim signed and spoke at the same time. "I'm Timothy Speedle..."
Dean grabbed the pad of paper and wrote furiously, pushing it into Tim's hands.
'How can I figure what your saying when your hands are distracting me.'
"You read lips?" Tim asked looking right at him.
He had been starting to figure things out; he still didn't get it all the time, but he was now more away of what was going on around him. Dean shrugged but didn't add anything.
Speedle wrote down his name and handed the pad to Dean, took it back added on that he was ex Delta Force. Dean's eyebrow rose slightly at the addition. His respect for the guy went up slightly. John had talked about men he knew that were Delta Force, they were some hard ass soldiers. He couldn't help but wonder if he would be good at hunting.
"Come on, let’s show you around this place," Tim signed as he spoke. "Get used to it; signing will be your main source of communication."
Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket then grabbed a pen and notebook.
Tim looked over towards the bed then back at him, "I'm not going to ask about the Glock."
Dean smirked as he wrote, then turned the page towards him. 'I'm not going to tell you.'
Speedle had his work cut out for him.
~*~
Well if there was one thing Timothy Speedle could say about Dean Winchester was that he was a stubborn asshole. He kinda admired it, when it wasn't annoying him. Dean was able to follow a conversation easily with reading lips, this was a plus. He still hadn't cracked a book on ASL, that wasn't a plus.
Tim threw his pen down and glared at the young man across from his desk.
"You're going to have to learn this."
Dean just stared at him.
"How do you expect to find work?"
Dean just shrugged. Not like there were people in his profession that communicated by sign. All he needed to know was how to find the evil bitches, dig them up, salt and burn them. At least he won't have to hear the spirits screaming as they got dragged into hell.
"What do you do for work?"
Dean just stared at him.
"I never thought I would see the day that someone would out stubborn Captain Timothy Speedle." Jeremy shook his head. "This is like a moment for the history books."
Timothy just glared at him. "Can I help you?"
"Just checking on the process, and to let you now Lydia has an idea to help you with the stubborn person..."
Dean frowned as he felt a shiver suddenly come over him. He looked around the room, but nothing seemed off. He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he looked over to Timothy.
"Are you okay?"
Dean nodded then looked around for the Director; he turned back to Speedle a question on his face.
"Had to go to a meeting, but he wants you to take classes with Lydia, his wife."
He grabbed the pen and paper. 'What for?'
Tim shrugged. "No idea..." he choked suddenly, coughing. He grabbed for his throat trying to get whatever got lodged out.
Dean reacted instantly; he jumped up and reached towards Tim, his hand going over his throat. The cold shiver ran through him again. He pushed him back from the desk and began rummaging through it.
Speedle reached out to him, trying to figure out what he was doing. The soldier in him was fighting desperately for air, trying to gulp in any amount. His eyes never left the young man, wondering if just maybe he had read him wrong, and he was trying to kill him.
Dean pulled the hex bag from the desk and grabbed the lighter out of his jacket and quickly lit it on fire.
Tim coughed, then gulped down lung full of air. He looked over at Dean. "What the hell just happened?"
Dean turned towards him. "Witches." He frowned then grabbed a pen.
"I heard you fine," he took the pen out of his hand. "You speak fine."
He shook his head, and reached for the pen.
Tim held it away from him. "Tell me in words. You know what they sound like..."
"It was a hex bag," Dean ran a hand over his face. "Some witch cursed you."
"Witch as in like witch?"
Dean nodded. He had felt something just before it happened. Did the demon do something more to him? "I burned the hex bag so you should be safe."
"I don't understand." Timothy stared at him. "You're talking magic."
He nodded.
"But that doesn't exist..." He looked over at the burnt remains on his desk. He reached over and dug through the ashes. Studying what was left. Timothy had felt the choking, saw the bag burn, felt it stop. The evidence was there. He looked back at Dean. "What does this mean?"
"We need to find the witch," Dean said.
"Then what?" Speedle asked.
Dean just shrugged and picked up the pen and paper. 'Stop her.'
Timothy sat down in his chair, and couldn't help but wonder how did you stop a witch?
Part 2