Delirious

"He is extremely dangerous," is one of the many things my colleagues would tell me over and over. "You can't get too close to him unless you want to be six feet under," was one of the other things my concerned boss would whisper in my ear from time to time.

Of course, I didn't care about these things. Yes, he was America's most wanted man. Yes, he was certifiably insane. And yes, he was great at manipulation. But nothing on this planet could keep me from him. He is the hurricane otherwise known as Dean Winchester. I can still recall the first time I looked into his blistering green eyes.

So, how did I end up here? On top of the city's tallest building as the fierce night wind whipped at my coat. A helicopter sounded from above us. It edged closer and I could see a ladder hanging from it and swaying along with the wind.

Dean smiled at me assuringly but there was something else mixed in there. But what? Greed? Power? He reached out his hand for me to take. "Do you trust me?" he asked through his smile as a cold chill ran down my spine. I couldn't help but feel as if this man was leading me to my death. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It all started six months ago at the Kansas City mental institution. I was the lead mental health psychologist in the state. I had been working at the institution for only two years since my internship there ended. The nurses were nice, the pay was okay and I didn't have anyone breathing down my neck 24/7.

The day Dean Winchester was to be brought in is a day I'll never forget. I had been sitting at my desk in my small office as I flipped through some patient files while the television in the corner of the room played the local news.

I sighed to myself and shook my head as I read what Benny had said to one of the female nurses. That guy was going to end up finding himself in the white room if he didn't stop getting marks on his record every week.

I was about to get up and head to the cafeteria when what was playing on the television caught my eye. It displayed an aerial view of the institution with the words 'breaking news' flashing at the bottom of the screen. I grabbed my remote and turned up the volume on the T.V.

"Infamous serial killer and mobster, Dean Winchester, was caught earlier this week at a gas station in Lawrence, Kansas. The state court has ordered him to stay at the Kansas City mental institution for the criminally insane until he can be tried for multiple counts of manslaughter along with drug charges. We are bringing you live footage of America's most wanted man making his first steps towards his new life," a woman's voice sounded over the footage.

The camera zoomed into a man with dark hair walking in between two police officers. They had given him a strait jacket to wear, most likely so he wouldn't attempt to hurt anyone else. The cops each had a grip on his arm as they pulled him into the building.

"I know I speak for everyone when I say it is an incredible feeling to have this monster off of our streets. America can sleep a little bit better knowing that justice has been served," the woman droned on.

I muted the T.V but continued to stare intently at the screen. It was now showing a close up of the killer's face. He didn't have the look of an insane mastermind but I knew better than anyone that looks can be deceiving.

The imprisoned man's plump lips curled into a devious smile as his eyes flickered to stare directly into the camera. My breath caught in my throat when I realized how truly beautiful he was. I reached my hand out subconsciously and placed it on the fuzzy screen.

I could make out the plethora of freckles that cascaded his cheeks and nose. His eyes showed no emotion behind them. It was as if he was dead to the world but his body was going through the motions. I leaned in closer and closer as I admired him.

I didn't realize how close I was until a knock at my door made me jump five feet back. I ran my hand through my hair while attempting to catch my breath again. I cleared my throat as I shoved my hands into my slack pockets. "Come in," I called out in a surprisingly even tone.

My boss, the director of the institution, Raphael, stuck his head through the door before opening it all the way then coming in. He smiled as he acknowledged me. "Dr. Novak, I can see you're all caught up in these recent events," he commented as his hand waved towards my muted television.

I followed his gaze and felt my cheeks start to tint pink with embarrassment. "Um, yes sir," I replied before grabbing the remote and turning the T.V. off.

"Wonderful. You'll be pleased to know that I've decided to appoint you as Mr. Winchester's doctor during his stay here," Raphael continued to smile. It was like he was robotic and unemotional in all his movements. Sometimes it creeped me out but I try not to dwell on it.

It was only then that I noticed the neat manila folder in Raphael's hands. I reached out and took it from him then smiled back. "Thank you. I will go over his files promptly," I assured him.

Raphael's lips formed into a tight line. His eyes softened up slightly as he nodded curtly. "Be careful, Castiel," he said almost as a warning before leaving me alone with the man's information.

I leaned against my desk as I stared down at the menacing folder. Be careful? What did he even mean by that? Sure, I've never dealt with someone with this thick of a folder but it was nothing I couldn't handle. This was my profession and my livelihood. All I had to do was stay professional. No matter how damn good looking he was.

I bit my lip as conflicting thoughts ran rampant through my mind. Maybe I could try a different approach with this one. I could neglect his file and try to get him to open up on his own. Maybe get a feel on the situation without going in knowing the truth.

I nodded to myself as I made my mind up then tossed the file unopened onto my cluttered desk. I could feel something deep in my gut screaming at me to run away. Get the hell out of Kansas. But my feet were telling me something else.

I walked slowly over to the door before stepping out into the hallway. The prisoners that shared the hall with my office all stepped forward in their cells to try to manage a peak at the new guy. I turned my head just as the police officers hauled the man around the corner.

He held his head down low but kept up with the officer's pace. I took a step back and rested my back on the wall as they made their way closer and closer to me. He must have felt my gaze since his head tilted up at just the right moment.

I was taken back by his beauty. The fuzzy T.V in my office did him no justice on how he truly looked. His skin was sun kissed and glowing despite the dull white strait jacket he was still in. His eyes shine from even five feet away but this time they had some kind of emotion in them. Curiosity? I couldn't tell.

The man tore his gaze away from me but a small smile played on his lips. I swallowed down the rather uncomfortable lump that had formed in my throat. I shoved my hands deep into my doctor's coat and willed myself to calm down.

The officers stopped at the end of the hall before opening the vacant room then tossing him into it. I turned my head away from the sight once I heard the doors lock clicking firmly into place. Escape would be impossible.

"Well, someone's in trouble," a voice purred from across me.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance when I recognized the bitter accent. "What are you going on about now, Crowley?" I asked one of the inmates that enjoyed giving me a hard time.

Crowley smiled as he gripped the metal bars in front of his face. "What? I'm observant," he replied, giving away no further hints that he knew my thoughts.

"Go be observant somewhere else," I said sarcastically as I turned my back to head back into my office.

"You really don't know who Dean Winchester is, do you?" Crowley continued in his know it all tone.

I paused and stiffened my shoulders up. "Is there something I should know?" I questioned him, still not turning around.

"You better start getting your will in order. You'll be dead by the end of the month," he answered simply.

I furrowed my brow and turned around to say something but Crowley had retreated back into the dark shadows of his cell. I shook off his comment then stepped back into my office. What did he mean by that? Dean Winchester couldn't be as bad as they were making him out to be. There's good in everybody and he just needs my help to find it.

XXX

It had been two days since I saw Dean get tossed into a cell. Raphael decided to give him some time to settle in before throwing him into a therapy session. So far, he hasn't said a word to anybody. But maybe that could be taken as a good sign. He hasn't hurt anyone. Yet.

I tapped my fingers nervously on my desk as I waited for the armed guards to escort me to my private meeting with Dean. I didn't have a plan for him but my hopes were to get to know him first. Seemed easy enough.

A knock at my door pulled me out of my nervous thoughts. I stood up then opened the door. Gabriel and Michael nodded at me as I stepped out into the hall. "Good afternoon," I greeted them professionally.

"Afternoon, Dr. Novak. You'll be on the second floor today. And we'll be right outside if you need us," Michael smiled. His hands wrapped around the large assault rifle he carried as he talked.

I stared at the menacing gun as I nodded back. "That's fine," I replied before heading down the hall towards the elevator.

"You don't have his file," Gabriel pointed out while all three of us stepped inside the cramped elevator.

"New method," I replied curtly before pursing my lips into a tight line.

It was silent for the rest of the ride up and the walk to the large grey door. "Is he waiting?" I asked Michael who nodded.

I thanked them then pushed open the heavy door. The room was damp and dark. It had a small metal table that was bolted down to the floor and chairs on either side. One of the chairs was occupied by the mysterious man who looked rather bored to be here.

Both of his wrists were handcuffed tightly to the legs of the table. His eyes followed me across the room and suddenly I felt like the vulnerable one. "Good afternoon, Mr. Winchester," I greeted as I scraped the chair across the concrete floor then sat down.

His eyes never left mine. "Dean," he simply said.

"Dean?" I questioned him with a tilt of my head. "Why not Mr. Winchester?"

"I'm not my father," he replied.

I nodded to myself. "Interesting," I said. We had only just met but already we were making progress since the reports claimed that he hadn't spoken in two days.

Deans eye twitched as if he was angry but his words didn't show it. "So, are you the guy who's going to cure me?" Dean asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

I smiled politely. "I'm certainly going to try," I replied without hesitation. The air between us was thick. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I loosened the tie around my neck nervously.

Deans eyes followed my movements. He looked as if he knew all my darkest secrets. He also looked dangerous like a storm in the distance. He seemed to be assessing me and going over something in his head. Then, he smiled and showed his perfect white teeth for the first time before something sinister took over his facial expression.

"This is going to be fun."