#prison!dean

That was what it was to me : love making, for I love him with my every being, for why I am now committing the planes of his face to my memory. 

From his sharp stubble dusted jaw, to his pink, slightly swollen lips that made me shut my mouth tightly against the moans that threatened to escape me as he worshiped me with his mouth.

“What is it ?” he whispers, his face is so close to mine that I can feel our breaths mix.

“Nothing” I smile and continue to trace the lines on his face.“You are beautiful” I say.

“You are more beautiful” he whispers and kisses me, lazily and unhurried, as if we have all the time in the world to explore each other.

I relish in his touches, in how he tastes, how he feels against me, in these small moments that I will forever keep in my heart.

Because we don’t have forever, we don’t have all the time in the world. Our time is limited and I am trying to make the best of it. Even if it means that I have to lie to him.

I slightly push his chest to look at him and state.

“The day after tomorrow. You will feel the sun again.”

“You have a plan ?” His fingers push some rogue hair from my face, he turns his hand over so his knuckles slightly scrape over my cheek.

I take his hand and inspect his knuckles, the faint white scars that stretch over them, from fighting monsters and nightmares. 

The hands of a hero, of a warrior. I will miss how their calluses scrape down my waist to grip my legs, to spread them and to feel him come home.

“I do” I say, keeping my eyes on his hand, then letting them glide to his chest where freckles are spread over his skin.

Letting go of his hand, I start tracing the constellations of his skin ; an attempt to commit this universe of a man to my mind, to my heart.

“What do I have to do ? How will it go ? What’s the first step ?”

I smile, letting my hand rest over his heart and look up at him, at the questions in his eyes.

Dean has always been a leader, the brawns and the brain of his and Sam’s many escapes, so it is no more than normal that he asks these questions. But if he knew all of it, if he knew the how and the when… He would never agree to do it.

“You wait for the signal and run” Is all I say, all I can say to him without risking his selfless side to rear its head and take over.

“What signal ?” 

I chuckle at the warrior before me, he is not comfortable with not being in charge, with not knowing.

“Don’t worry Dean. I have everything under control, I only have to prepare some things. You will know when it is time. Do you trust me ?”

“Yes” he answers within a heartbeat.

I can’t help the shuddering breath that leaves my lips. This warrior who has been betrayed so many times, that I know how struggles to trust people.

He trusts me.

“Sweetheart ? What’s wrong ?” His hands cups my cheek and wipes a stray tear.

“Nothing” I sniff loudly. “I am just honored that you trust me” I admit.

He smiles and kisses me again. 

“I do, with my life” he whispers against my lips. “I can’t wait to show you the bunker” he begins, and I don’t have the strength to stop him, to put out that bright light in his eyes, to crush his hope.

“I’m curious to see it” which is not a full lie, I am curious to see it. 

I just never will.

“And to eat burgers and show you Baby.” 

“Baby ?” I wonder out loud. 

Is there another close friend I haven’t yet discovered ? Friends usually don’t go by that nickname… My chest starts to cave at who deserves to carry that name from his lips.

“My car” he chuckles. “I call her Baby.”

“Right” I smile in relief “The famed 67’ Chevrolet Impala. I read a lot about her. Usually sightings of your license plates in my reports, and how long she has been your companion.”

“She was and will always be my home. Aside from the bunker and -” he cuts himself off and his eyes find mine. 

I swallow hard at what I can read in his eyes. No… he can’t think that. The plan, my plan, won’t work if he thinks like that.

“And Sam.” I finish for him.

“Yeah… Sam will be relieved to leave this place” he wraps his strong arms tight around me.

“Yes” I say, snuggle close and let the silence stretch out between us.

“I have to go soon, Dean” I sigh as I break our precious bubble. “Our session is almost over.”

He squeezes me a little tighter, not wanting to let me go, just like I don’t want to leave.

“I know” he says and ducks his head to kiss me.

Kiss me for perhaps the last time…

“Tomorrow I can’t come. I have to set things in motion.” 

“Okay” He takes a deep breath and his fingers trace down my face to gently grip my chin. “Promise me to be careful, promise me everything will be okay” his eyes stare deep into me, straight into my soul.

And for this lie alone, I know I will never see him again. Because if Heaven and Hell are real, then I am a sinner for the lie, for the false hope I give him, I don’t deserve Heaven with him. 

“I promise” I say with a sweet smile, a smile that makes that spark of hope in his eyes expand to a raging fire of yearning for freedom.

As I put on my clothes and straighten my hair to erase any signs of what happened within these walls, I look back at him one last time. 

At my Dean, at the love of my life, at my warrior hero. At my wolf.

And quietly say goodbye.

I try to blink to make my vision clear again but my eyes are drowning in tears. 

Each second, each move is preparated. I have been working with each second of my free time on this plan for weeks and it is absolutely perfect, clicking like the most precise clock. 

Dean will be able to get out, my love will be free, I should be happy. Yet when I realized it was over, and ready to be done, my heart suddenly broke and I couldn’t stop crying for almost an hour.

I have to calm down and study the plan one more time, because it has to be absolutely perfect.

I just never planned to die so young. I don’t know what I really wanted with my life, but certainly not for it to be over so soon, even less now that I am so thirsty for it, now that I want to run away, quit my job, disappear on the road with the man I love…

How I want this.

How unfair it is that I have to lose my life just when I am ready to start living. 

I get up in a jump, trying to force myself to get out of this storm of pain, and go get a glass of wine. It was always my little pleasure, drinking a glass of a good expensive wine when a big case was over. 

The case of my life is solved.

I look around at my apartment and start gathering everything. Files, books, photos, every single post-it with anything on it. When I am done with this place, not a single trace of what I found out about the Winchesters will remain. 

My tears calm and, sipping from my glass of wine, I empty everything while reciting the plans to myself. 

Tomorrow morning three of the guard squad will be sick, sick enough to not be able to stand and come to work. The kind of very bad food poisoning I gave them won’t kill them, but they will need a hospital for a day or two. 

Three guards down is just not enough to trigger the backup call procedure. So there will be a slight lack of surveillance in the corridor East and at the Winchester’s door.

After all this time, everybody is pretty confident, and the brothers are not frightening anybody anymore. Being forgotten by the enemy is the best strategy. 

I have to enter Aisle 4 between Agent Camp’s coffee and Agent Sanchez’s tour in the building, 7:25 precisely. I will be able to cut the wires that allow communication between the Aisles, so Agent Camp will be in the dark for at least 20 minutes before he realizes that he is not getting answers. 

Before 7:28, I have to get into Agent Sanchez’s office with the card I stole yesterday. Once I am in it, I will use that poison one of my psychopath ex patients told me how to prepare. He used to make it to poison train drivers, I will use it on Sanchez.

The powder on his keyboard will be enough to make him sick. Surprised, watching his colored fingers and starting to feel dizzy and nauseous, he will call Camp to lock down the place.

A message his colleague will never have before he faints less than 45 seconds after the beginning of the first symptoms, and the guard at the building security won’t be at work this exact day, which Sanchez won’t know yet, considering Camp is the one supposed to tell him, and his communications are being blocked for now. 

Once I cut the two heads of the beast, I am the only one in charge.

The sick Agent should wake up to throw up a few minutes later, just when Agent Camp realizes he is not getting his morning routine news and starts wondering why. 

But once the highly skilled men trigger the emergency procedure and lock the building, Sam and Dean will be outside, running from the supply metal door that can only be opened with someone commanding it from inside… 

I will tell Sam and Dean to run to the end of the corridor while I lock everything behind us. But the truth is that I can only open and lock the building from inside, and Sam knows it.

So when the door closes behind them, trapping me inside with men having enough charges against me to just put a bullet in my head, he will have to make Dean agree to run.

Because he promised.

My apartment is now empty, not a single clue of what I could have done for the last months. With my bags filled with paper, stolen files, pictures, recordings and every device I used to make research, I get out of the building to drive a few blocks away where there often are container fires and throw it all in it. 

So much paper damp with gasoline is easy to light and the link between the container burning again, and me, is simply impossible to make.

Watching the fire spread quickly from my car between the two insalubrious buildings, I check my mental list. The papers files are burning and the ones on the numeric system are being eaten by the extremely efficient virus I spread in the system. 

If I am going to deserve death penalty, I might as well protect my hero with everything I can…

“Dean” I state, entering the cell, out of breath.

“Y/n ?” he frowns, walking cautiously to the open door when I don’t enter. 

I am holding the unconscious guard’s arm up on the finger print screen, my taser in hand. 

“Oh wow” he breathes out. “It’s happening.”

“We have four minutes, Dean. Hurry.”

He walks out of the cell and that vision alone is making me incredibly brave.

For now, everything went as planned. The virus is spreading, and the person who gave it to me was formal : It will eat every trace of the Winchester’s files like termites until absolutely nothing is left to be used.

Sanchez fell in his office, the video surveillance room is empty since I electrocuted and tied up both army guys in it, and Camp is eating his stupid donut his wife won’t let him eat at home, totally oblivious to anything that could be happening.

“Help me carry the guy” I grunt, giving the guard’s arm to Dean.

He doesn’t ask questions and starts carrying the unconscious man, following me. 

“I thought about cutting his hand but… Well I’m not a psycho.”

“It’s all to your credit” Dean chuckles. “So how does it work ?”

I stop in front of Sam’s door and motion to the little screen to make him lift the guard’s hand here, scanning my own card before the door opens to a puzzled Sam. 

“So in all this area, where you are captive” I say for both of them. “To open doors, you need both a guard fingerprint and either my card or the card of one of those government dudes. So we need to carry him at least to the end of the corridor.”

They both nod, already in full action mode, not needing a second more to turn to efficient hunters. Sam grabs the heavy guard like he didn’t weigh much and throws him on his shoulder, jogging to the other side of the long gray corridor. 

As we pass the automatic metal door, and Sam puts the man on the floor there, he gives me a quick look that I chose to ignore. I know what he wants to say, I know what I am asking him…

But I can’t think of anything but freeing my love, I can’t let my emotions blur my judgment now, or we are all dead. 

We run.

Through never-ending corridors, knocking out a few guards now and then before they can get their walkie-talkies, mostly avoiding people… My plan is perfect, and the wolves I am freeing are deadly efficient.

Seeing Dean at work, disarming trained soldiers like it was nothing… It could make me love him even more, if it was possible.

The closer we get to the exit, the harder it gets. And when I feel his hand search for mine in our race, I feel my heart break. 

I squeeze his hand. I tell him how much I love him with that touch, I give him my strength and hope it is enough. 

I wish I could run forever, just holding his hand, but the door I was fearing is coming close. When we reach it, he lets go of my hand to look at me.

“Okay, how do we open this one” he asks, looking around. 

“This one has to be opened and closed here” I say, showing absolutely no emotion or worry. “I activate it and when you pass it, I let go of the button and run to you.”

Dean frowns and shakes his head. 

“No, no I’m staying with you” he states. 

My baby is smart, but I am a master at deceiving. 

“Dean, baby don’t be ridiculous !” I say with absolutely no clue of my fear in my voice. “You have to trust my plan ! Come on Dean, they will react soon.”

“But-”

My face manages to make an amused smile that seems to reassure him.

“Hey, you think I’m the kind of person to leave something to chance ?” I mock him in a way that can only make him think I’m serene. 

“Okay okay” he sighs, passing the door when it opens.

Sam turns to me with sad eyes, nodding slightly, probably to thank me. 

“Okay I will now open the second door, there” I point at the final gate that leads outside. “Then let go of the button, you run, I’m behind you. Ready ?”

They nod and the second door starts opening slowly, letting daylight in, they start running.

But as the gates of freedom are opening, the door I am behind starts closing quickly, locking me in the building. 

If my fingers let go of the device to run under it, the gates will close abruptly on the Winchesters, with a security system making it impossible to reopen it without Agent Sanchez secret code…

Goodbye my love.

But just like I had feared, before he passes the gates to the forest, Dean turns around, realizing I am trapped. 

“Y/N !” he runs to me.

But his shoes disappear under the now closed metal door.

“Y/N !” he hits it as hard as he can. 

“Dean ! RUN !” I scream through the metal wall. “I LOVE YOU ! GO BE FREE !”

“NOOO !”

Tears are soaking my face, and I hear some noises in the corridors behind me. 

“BABY HURRY I’M BEGGING YOU !” I am sobbing now. 

Sam is talking to him, trying to convince him to run, and I think I hear them fight…

“I’M COMING BACK FOR YOU !” he screams. “YOU HEAR ME Y/N ?!”

I struggle to find my voice through the tears and answer weakly that I love him. 

“I love you…” he cries through the metal, making my knee give up under my weight.

Then Sam and him run, and after a minute that feels like the shockwave of a bomb, I get up on wobbly legs, wipe my face, let go of the button and hear the gate close in a bang. 

I have one last mission, I cannot give up just now. 

Running in the opposite direction, I hide from the guard grunting that he can’t reach Camp and calling his colleagues on his walkie.

I reach the video surveillance room and lock it behind me, ignoring the tied up guards insults and threats, I lift my eyes to the camera showing me the love of my life running through the forest. 

I touch his silhouette with love and get a knife out of my pocket to start cutting all the wires of the screens, so the images they get from the forest security cameras are forever lost. 

The door of the security room is giving away under the battle ram that Camp and Sanchez’s men are using to get to me.

This is how it ends.

I can’t stop trembling, even if I scream at myself not to. 

But the gun that I took from the tied guard behind me is overriding my will and kindling the fire of my instincts.

The metal barrel feels cold against my temple where I hold it. A coldness I embrace. A coldness that is much kinder than the torture Camp and Sanchez have planned for me if they get their hands on me alive.

They will break me and ask me where the Winchesters ran to. I won’t give them the chance to hurt me to get to my wolf.

My trembling stops, even when the door starts to groan under the power of the trained men behind it.

I am not afraid, because my wolf is free, and that is all that matters. I won.

Wood splinters and pieces of metal explode under the ram and the door flies open to slam into the wall. 

My grip tightens on the gun, my finger starts to squeeze the trigger. 

One squeeze, and it will all be over.

Will Hell be as hot as they described it to be ?

“STOP” Sanchez screams at me when he sees the gun in my hand, when he sees the last possibility of catching the Winchesters slipping through his fingers.

I smile at him and take my very last breath, I blink my eyes a last time to take in this world I will never see again. I spread my lips for the last time to say my last words. The words I was born to say.

“Dean Winchester is free.”

I close my eyes and squeeze, overriding every instinct in myself to end it.

To end everything I know.

A loud boom that makes my ears ring is followed by a raging hot pain spears through my arm like a bolt of lightning. 

I can’t control the movement of my arm. My hand that is holding the gun moves up right when I squeeze the trigger. A sharp pain slices across the top of my skull, followed by a warm trail of blood across the side of my head.

Time seems to slow down as my arm falls limp to my body and I fall to my knees under the pain, a pain that makes my eyes water and grit my teeth.

“Get her! If she bleeds out before she tells me where the Hell they are, I’m going to kill you all!” Sanchez’s voice rings through the room, but his voice sounds so distant, as if the pain is cleaving me apart. 

I open my eyes when I feel hands gripping me, grabbing my arms and pressing into that raging pain.

I scream harder than I have ever before and look at the origin.

Blood, so much blood and torn flesh right on my bicep, not a clean shot through then. My muscle is burning around the bullet that seems to have stopped at my shattered humerus.

A rough hand grabs my chin, stomp but sharp nails digging into my cheeks. Their grip hard despite my slippery skin under their touch, slippery with my blood from where the bullet that was supposed to go in my brain cut a groove in my skin.

“You bitch” Sanchez sneers. “You’re going to tell me where they are.”

“N-no” I grit through my teeth. “N-never”

His eyes turn cold, his smile making my body tremble once more.

“I’ll make you beg” he groans lowly, a promise of pain far worse than the gunshot in my arm lays within his eyes.

And yet, I am not afraid. I am ready for death. I am ready for pain. 

“I love you” Dean’s words echo through my mind. 

To those words I will cling, I will hang onto them when I feel like breaking. I will never break because Dean Winchester loves me.

Dean Winchester is free.

That is all that matters.

March 16, 2016. Robert Haligan died inside his home.

March 17, 2016. Harry Gorner died inside his home.

March 18, 2016. Kelly Morrigan died inside her home.

March 21, 2016. Sam and Dean arrived in town.

I look at my notes, at all the deaths I wrote down in chronical order, followed by the dates when Sam and Dean arrived, with, each time, absolute proof they couldn’t be here before, because they were seen elsewhere.

This pattern is too big to ignore…

Most of the deaths occured before the Winchesters arrived, and stopped as soon as they left. 

Sometimes there was another casualty when they were there, but not as much as the time before they stepped into whatever town that seemed doomed.

It is impossible for them to have killed all these people. You can’t kill someone when you aren’t present. And if it was a criminal organization, why would the killing stop each time they show up in town ?

Every file where their name has been mentioned, is oozing with death, there is no denying that. 

Where death is, the Winchesters follow.

Follow or seek out ? Because this pattern, it seems to show that the Winchesters are the cure for the horror that crept into those towns.

Still there exists footage of Sam and Dean dragging bodies around and stabbing people, even records of beheading…

The amount of force and precise skill they must have to be able to chop someone’s head off is frightening.

I close my notebook and put it inside the locked drawer of my desk. I will not tell Agent Camp about this yet. I want to talk to the brothers first.

But I know they won’t open up to me with the guard present. I’ll have to talk to Camp and try to negotiate for a way to get me some alone time with the Winchesters.

It won’t be easy, Camp is old and stubborn. He is stuck in the old ways of the army, convinced that starving Sam and Dean from as much human contact as possible will break them.

The Winchesters are smart and resourceful, they will wait and quietly observe until a crack opens up for them to slip through.

I know they have been eyeing me, looking at my pockets for possible ways to sneak something in or out. They have been timing me and noting when I come. Dean knows I see Sam before I see him, just as Sam knows I see Dean after.

I am surprised they haven’t asked me yet to pass on something to each other. Not that I would do that. I am sure they have plenty of code words to assess the situation.

One word would be enough to break these walls and set a plan of escape in motion.  

But I need to gain their trust if I want to learn more about them. Not just make them confess what we want them to, but reach that truth that I am, according to Dean Winchester, too sheltered to handle. 

So the next step is getting rid of the guard. I can see how Dean keeps up his walls. Some questions he won’t answer, he just casts a glare at that guard and ignores me. 

If I want to move further, the guard must go.

My brain, that some people call highly efficient, has always been my best friend. Of course it is a very possessive friend and it won’t really let me have a great friendship with anyone else, like it won’t let me forget its constant presence… But when I need it, it is always here for me. 

Like right now. 

When I need something to go my way, I always find my path. A few calls to my bosses along the days, a few very well chosen sentences, reports that give only the information that goes in the direction I want to lead them.

Lead the focus of their reflection on what you want to, make them see the problem in a way that only your way could really fit, discreetly implant your plan in their mind, and always make them believe that the idea comes from them. If you need to, try to argument against your own idea so they start to actually fight for what you put in their mind.

“General” I say on the phone, hiding the corner smile on my lips. “If I agree to see Sam and Dean Winchester in a cell alone, I will need to be armed.”

“Of course you will, Doctor” says the Chief of Staff Army, proving to me I could even manipulate my way into the most powerful men of the United States of America’s army. “I’m sending the written protocole to Camp and Sanchez as soon as it is ready, my secretary is on it right now.”

“As you wish, General” I answer with my most submissive voice. 

“Thank you for your devoted service, Doctor.”

I hang up and stay focused on my role. I stretch my back with a straight face and go to Camp’s office. 

When I enter, his features fail to hide his contempt. 

“Agent Camp…” I start. 

“What is it, Doctor” he grunts. “I’m a little busy right now, talk.”

“I will go straight to the point then, Agent” I nod, joining my arms in my back to stand very straight. “The Cabinet of the President and the Head of the Army considered that your way failed.”

“What ?” he gets up to walk around his desk and face me.

“Isolation doesn’t make the Winchesters talk, so this will be stopped. The CSA considers that it makes them feel sheltered and safe. He wants me to access their cells as much as I want, I will need the autorisation pass to their area. I have to be able to take them to my office or even on an outside walk if I consider this can have results.”

“How could privilege have results !” he loses his temper a little, hitting the wood of his desk. 

“I am also going to interview them alone.”

His eyes have a micro-expression of fear. He knows that I know about his little spying, and he just understood how dangerous I am. 

“Oh” he frowns slightly. “Did you do it, Doctor ? Did you make this happen ?”

I let a smile crawl on my face, just enough to let him see I won, but not enough to be heard in a recording or seen on a spy camera.

“I have no idea what you are talking about” I say with an innocent voice. “I have been only obeying orders. Why ? Do you have any personal interest in me being watched by a guard, Agent Camp ?”

I tricked him, and his answers just proves to me that his office is under surveillance.

“Absolutely not, Doctor, why would I ? If you want the Winchester brothers to murder you, so be it. But I won’t be able to guarantee your security.”

Sanchez is not as dangerous as Camp, because he is ambitious and obsessed with action. So the talk with him was easier to lead : He got angry, he insulted me and my methods until I had to personally call the boss of his boss’s boss who, of course, confirmed the order. 

I hid my satisfaction by feigning that I felt trapped between orders I didn’t want and impressive men’s disapproval. Camp looks at me with a knowing look, but if I didn’t make a mistake, and I rarely do, he will never be able to prove I orchestrated all of this like a puppet show.

If only I could play Dean Winchester that easily. The fact that I can’t is the biggest proof that he, and Sam, are smarter than all of those men.

After Sanchez was asked to apologize to me, that I hid my satisfaction, and they both got the written order to give me all the power I need, we walked together to the Winchester's cells. 

“Nothing on the CSA’s order indicates that you can make them meet each other” Sanchez warns me.

“I’m not an idiot” I state, holding my newly-made authorization badge. “Together, they are invincible. I know.”

“Sam or Dean ?” Sanchez grunts, pointing at the doors. 

“Sam first.”

When they open the cell, Sam gets up from his bed instantly, taking a step back at seeing all those men he didn’t expect. 

Everything goes fast, and brutally : They yell at him to show his hand, they yell when they cuff him, they yell… Sam turns his head to me while they all are agitated, pressing his chest on the wall, his smart eyes catching my calm behind all this agitation.

And, just like I expected, he understood that my power is growing, and it made him talk to me a little more than usual. Not much, just a few questions about what all of this was about and how did I manage to get the interviews to be like I wanted, and that he guessed a long time ago that the guard was giving information to someone higher…

It has been a week now that I can see the Winchester brothers alone. And it has been three days since I didn’t put my feet in my apartment. I just stayed here, obsessing about every single murder Sanchez and his men suspect my patients to have comitted. 

I have asked them about each one of them of course. Sam stayed silent as usual, and Dean, who trusts me more, smiled and explained crazy things about monsters.

Today, I have decided to confront him with some pictures, I intend to show him the beheaded corpse of a young man we seem to know for sure Sam is the murderer. 

I wait outside until the guards are done cuffing him, and I enter with my taser in hand. They considered that giving me a gun was a risk of potentially giving one to the Winchesters.

I enter and freeze. 

The guard closes the door behind me, but I don’t sit on my foldable chair as I usually do. I stare at Dean Winchester, sitting on the edge of his bed, hands tied, feet chained, face bruised. 

He looks like he has been beaten violently, and considering none of his hand is bruised, he didn’t get to defend himself or fight back. 

He doesn’t really look at me, almost like he was mad at me, but the truth is I think he is really in pain, his breathing is short and I think, from how he sits, he could have a broken rib.

“Mister Winchester” I frown. “What happened ?”

“I tripped” he states defensively. 

“Dean” I insist, putting the file with the beheaded corpse photo down on the chair to come closer to him, still fisting the taser.

He lets me come closer, surprised by my concern. The truth is, well might I work with serial killers, I can’t stand this kind of brutality. 

I check his face to be sure no injury risks killing him. His right eye is red but not pierced, his lip is swollen and his eyebrow is cut. The side of his face is blue and purple, but I am more concerned about the injuries under his gray overall.

“Were you stabbed ?” I ask, knowing prison culture loves non-deadly stabbing, with little objects. 

“No” he answers, searching my face.

I have never been so close to him… I had never really smelled him or felt his body heat. I take a deep breath, and look away, terribly confused by the unhealthy fascination screaming inside of me. 

I am totally aware that he could break my neck right now but I feel like in front of a wounded wolf that I just couldn't let be trapped in a steel-jaw trap. 

“Do you struggle to breathe ?” I ask. 

“False eleventh rib could be broken, on the left” he says lowly, showing an incredible knowledge of the human body.

He must have been hurt so much, he must have enough medical skills to survive frequent injuries. But by who ? Serial killers’ victims rarely beat or hurt them, right ?

I want to check but if I touch this man, I might be dead before I know what hits me. 

“What happened ?” I insist, searching his eyes so intensely that I catch them. 

Once again, I can see no cruelty, no shiver runs down my spine when the green of his gaze envelops me.

“Ask your grunts, Doc.”

I can hear their laughter from the break room of the security department as I make my way to them.

Stepping inside I see three men sitting around a table that is put in the middle of the room. On the right side are screens that film every angle of the outside of the building and most of its corridors.

I clear my throat to gain their attention and take my time to stare every single one of them down before I start my interrogation.

“What is it, Doc” the middle one says. 

His eyes slowly slide over my body, lingering on my chest area when a sly smirk emerges on his face.

He is the alpha douche of this little group, very fit, big arms and a puffed out chest. The buttons on his shirt are hanging on for life. He is obviously wearing a shirt that is too small for him, obviously on purpose.

“I need a word with the person who got in contact with Dean Winchester” I say in my most calm voice that I can muster up. 

“That would be all three of us” he answers. “Is there a problem?” 

He knows exactly what the problem is.

“I need to know whether mister Winchester showed aggressive behavior towards you, and if you reacted by engaging in this behavior” I refrain from crossing my arms over my chest, from hiding myself from his eyes that keep glancing down to my chest.

He clearly has little self-control.

“We were told the isolation ban was lifted” he begins as he steps closer towards me. “Thanks to you” he gives me a wink and walks right past me, making a point of bumping into my shoulder to walk to the coffee machine behind me.

Asshole.

I turn around to keep watching him as he leans his behind against the lip of the counter.

“So you decided to go in, without reason ?” 

“We were to transport mister Winchester to his shower” he says as he sips from his coffee. “He was resisting us. We just followed our orders.”

He is lying, of course I can smell it so easily on such a weak mind, on that horrible and vain smug grin. Dean is smarter than this. He would gladly take the opportunity to leave his cell for a shower, to see beyond that metal door, to know more.

Dean Winchester, I think, wouldn’t go against the orders and protocols that come from me. Maybe I am wrong, but I think he started perceiving that even if we are enemies, we also fight the same people here…

“Then I will need to see that footage of the corridors when you moved him” I tilt my chin higher, holding his gaze.

“Sorry, Doc. That’s classified, only agent Camp has access to the footage of the halls and showers.” 

I didn’t ask for the shower footage, but his defense shows that they are doing something shady there too. Are they hurting him when he is naked and defenseless in every way ? 

Even if I shouldn’t be emotionally involved in this case, I want to scratch his eyes out, I want to strangle that ridiculously thick neck, I want to punch and kick him for abusing his power, for hurting a man that can not defend himself.

I take a deep breath to calm those raging thoughts. Getting angry, showing that I perhaps care a little too deep about Dean Winchester will jeopardize my work.

“If I can't see the footage, I will have to do my observations through you, I will ask you questions” I state, giving him no room to negotiate. “How was he resisting ?”

“By being a pain in my ass” he answers.

“I will need more detail, Mister…?” I need his name, maybe if his behavior will become worse I can start a file on him, making an idiot be fired shouldn’t be a challenge, It would take me a few days at most.

“Dorrigan” he gives me a smile as if I should know that name.

“We came in and he didn’t get out of his bed. We asked nicely and he still resisted, then we used force” he walks back to his table to sit among his two colleagues and I turn to follow him. “Then the psycho started to lash out at us. We handled out of self defense”

“Mister Winchester fought ? He hit you ?” Dean didn’t have any bruises on his hands. 

He would have if he had hit one of these guys. And if he had lashed out on them, they would be dead. Those fools don’t realize how dangerous the bear they are poking is, and they, of course, totally underestimate me.

“He did, he’s strong, so all three of us held him down” he looks to his colleagues who nod in agreement.

I take in their hands and see they all have bruises and even some split knuckles. They hit him hard…

“I will note it in my observations. Thank you for your cooperation” I say as I turn away from them, no longer able to push those raging thoughts down. 

If I don’t go now, I may cut his throat. Turn to the killers I study, use my high training on self defense, grab this paper-knife and bleed him like the pig he is.

“Oh and Doc ?” I halt in the doorway when I hear his voice and turn a little to catch his eyes over my shoulder.

“If you ever need a break from working” he licks his lips and gives me a smile that makes my stomach turn. “You can always come eat lunch with me” he finishes off with a wink.

I prefer not eating at all, forever.

I turn around slowly, my hand joining before me. My smile is perfectly hiding my rage, and I can see in their eyes that they suddenly realize that they might have gone a little far.

“I am sure that the President of America, the Chief of the Army and the Senators I have a meeting with next week, will be very pleased to know that the so called highly trained soldiers they hired are too busy taking coffee and perpetuating sexual harrassement to do their job properly…” I nod calmly before I walk to the door. “Gentlemen.”

I drop my purse on the table next to my front door and toss my keys in the little bowl. I sigh and look around my apartement, I barely recognize it. 

A layer of dust has begun to form on every piece of furniture. Here and there I can see a piece of clothing and my dishes from last week are still waiting…

Tomorrow. I’ll do all that tomorrow.

I go to my bedroom and strip my clothes, keeping my underwear on and pulling a big shirt over my head, I let myself fall in bed.

I look at my alarm on my nightstand, the green numbers are the only light in my room. 2:43 AM. I can’t remember when I last went to bed before 2 am…

I turn on my back and look up at the ceiling and I can’t help but let my mind drift towards Dean.

What if they are hurting him right now ? What if Dorrigan hurts him even more now that the isolation is lifted ? Why didn’t they hit Sam ? Was my threatening visit enough to stop it for now ?

Knowing Dean, he probably made a cruel joke about them, making them angry on purpose. Like he sometimes does with me, but why ?

I take a deep breath, count to three and exhale. I am a master at dealing with stressful situations. I am. I can meditate slaughters out of my memories, I can listen to monsters for hours and sleep like a baby. 

But nothing seems to take the painful breathing of Dean Winchester out of my ears. 

I grunt and try putting on some musical ambiance to cover it… Now it is his bruised face his appearing on that stupid ceiling. 

I take a deep breath, count to three and exhale again. 

This will be a long night…