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Finger Painted Faces

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 "Instead of being yourself you put this on....So people can't see your true intentions Doc."

-Dean Winchester to Castiel Milton


Summer 1961


“Your resume is impressive Dr.Milton. To be honest I’m a little shocked you decided you wanted to leave Sydney Medical to come here,” Naomi closed the folder Castiel Milton had brought her and folded her hands on the desk, studying him. He was a good looking man, mid twenties. Thick black hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to see right through you. The wire rimmed glasses he wore only made him look even more intellectual. He was a very handsome man. Castiel pushed his glasses up his nose and crossed his legs.


“I decided to venture out and practice in smaller Sanitariums….I feel, everyone has the right to get better, there are plenty of good Conversion Therapy doctors in Sydney. I had heard that your facility did not have this luxury. So I resigned to lend a hand here.” Naomi nodded, a grin curling the edges of her lips.


“And we will be very thankful to have you. Homosexuality seems to be becoming a trend of sorts around here. We’d like to squash it out as soon as possible. I hope you can enlighten us as well as cure the young men plagued with this illness. It’d be nice to send them home to their families.” Castiel nodded as Naomi stood, extending her hand. Her palm was sweaty and warm when he took it, shaking once and releasing as soon as possible. She wiped her hand on the side of her dress and stepped around her desk. “I’ll show you to your office. This will be your space until we can properly accommodate you.”

“Hey big boy. Looking for a good time?” Castiel raised his eyebrows as a patient seductively rolled the sleeve of her gown down, exposing the pale skin of her shoulder. She rolled her hips and motioned seductively to Castiel. Naomi rolled her eyes.


“Good afternoon Pamela, have you taken your meds yet today?” Naomi motioned for an orderly, who immediately went after ‘Pamela’. “She won’t be one of your patients. She's a hypersexual.” Castiel nodded, moving quickly down the hallway.


“And they’re allowed to roam freely?”


“No, of course not. There are at least two or three orderlies on hand at a time for patients being disruptive and we have guards on every floor. Everyone is watched twenty four hours a day.”


“Thorough,” Castiel commented.


“Can’t let any of them slip through the cracks. They’re dangerous. To themselves and to others.” she opened the door to a small room and ushered Castiel in. There was a desk and a chair, a file cabinet, and a window overlooking the gardens. “I know this is probably not what you’re used too but, it’s just until we have proper accommodations for you. Your office should be finished by the end of the week.” Castiel dragged a finger over the desk, examining the dust that came up.


“This is fine….I’d like to get started as soon as possible if you don’t mind? I have extensive diagnostic criteria to go over and the sooner I get started on it the better.”


“Your patients are already filed for you in the cabinet, at this point you only have five in dire need of your attention. I believe you could start sessions as early as this afternoon if you’d like. I’d have to talk to Sister Hannah of course, but I will let you know.” Castiel was already pulling the files out of the cabinet before she finished speaking. He licked his thumb and leafed through the papers.


“Thank you Naomi. I look forward to working here.”


“And we look forward to having you.” Castiel smiled as she shut the door, her footsteps retreating, back towards her office. He loosened his tie and ran his fingers through his hair. His heart was still pounding in his chest.


“You’re fine,” he whispered to himself, licking his lips, “You’re fine. They don’t know. They don’t know.”


“We just want Dean to get better. You have to believe that this was a hard decision for us. We don’t want to send him away….It’s just….He’s not well,” Sister Hannah nodded looking at the family in front of her. The Winchesters, who were having their eldest son committed.


“I understand. I know it can be a….difficult, thing to let your child go in order for him to get better. But you have brought him to the right place.” she looked from the mother and father to the boy. He sat with his arms crossed, a stony expression on his face.


“How long will Dean have to stay here?” the younger one, a boy with shaggy brown hair and blue green eyes tugged on his mother’s shirt. She hushed him and patted his hand. Hannah decided to answer the child.


“Until he’s better Dean will remain here with us. Once he’s been cured he’ll be returned to you.” Dean stiffened slightly in the corner, but not too noticeably. Sister Hannah’s eyes narrowed on the boy, he’d be a troublemaker, she knew it.


Dean didn’t really want to say goodbye to his family. Anger boiled and raged within him to the point where he wanted to destroy everything, break the world and go on a rampage. They were abandoning him. They were throwing him away because of one mistake. It’s only a mistake because you got caught. He groaned internally,because the words were true. He wanted to spit on his parents, to scream that he hated them. But he stayed silent, walking with them to their car. An orderly stood by, watching to make sure Dean didn’t try to run.


“Bye Dean! I love you!” Sam threw his arms around his brother, hugging him tightly. Dean ruffled his hair and kissed his cheek, inhaling his scent for the last time.


“Love you too Sammy. Be good okay.” Sam wiggled out of Dean’s arms and high fived his brother, before sauntering over to the car. An energetic eight year old without a care in the world.


“Dean….Baby I’m sorry. You know I-” Dean held up his hand. He didn’t want to hear it again. He loved his mother, but she was just as guilty of this as his father. Mary cupped her son’s cheeks in her hands and kissed his forehead. “I do love you Dean. I know you don’t think so...But I love you very much.” Dean was silent as she turned away. Lastly his father came up, extending his hand. Dean refused it. John narrowed his eyes.

“I hope they fix your manners as well as your perversion boy.” Dean glared, jaw set, eyes stubborn as his family got into their little blue car and drove off, leaving him at this looney bin, where he didn’t feel safe at all.  

Chapter Text

“Where is she going with my things?” Dean watched an older nun, with silver hair and an arched back carry his suitcase away from him. Sister Hannah smiled at him, he didn’t like it. She scared him.


“You won’t be needing them during your stay. They’ll be returned to you upon your release, but for now we’re going to hold onto them.” she put her arm around his shoulders, leading him down the hallway, “it’s best to leave family and unnecessary things at the door. You need to focus on your illness and getting better.” Dean looked around at the patients, some were milling about, drugged out of their minds, others doodling or playing checkers. Dread filled him as he realized this would be his life now.


“But I’m not….I’m not sick,” he murmured more to himself than to Sister Hannah. She stopped and faced him, her eyes icy and cold.


“Then you're even worse off than we initially thought.” Before Dean could counter, or say another word, she was pulling him down the hall again, stopping just outside a closed door. It said ‘Room 208: Garth Fitzgerald the Fourth and Dean Winchester’. Sister Hannah took out a set of keys and unlocked the door. A smaller boy sat at a desk, scribbling something on a sheet of paper. He was thin, his head and eyes too big for his body, clothes, baggy and hanging off of him. Sister Hannah knocked on the wall, a plastic smile on her face. “Garth, we have your new roommate.” She ushered Dean forward. Garth stood, uneasily and extended his hand. His fingers were pale and as bony as the rest of him.


“Hello, I’m Garth. And you are?” Dean took his hand and shook it lightly, afraid he might break him. Garth had a slight southern drawl. Which made Dean curious.


“Dean,” Garth smiled widely. He vaguely reminded Dean of one of those comic book cartoons.


“Right on man.” Sister Hannah cleared her throat.


“I have some other work to do Dean. Garth, help Dean get settled and take him to the rec room. Dean, please make yourself comfortable.” she smiled once more before leaving, shutting the door behind her.


“Whew! Man I thought she’d never leave. Sister Hannah gives me the heebie jeebies.” Garth shook himself, blowing his lips for effect. Dean cracked a genuine smile for the first time since he got there.


“So what are you in for?” Garth shook his head, putting away whatever he was drawing.


“Nuh uh. You can’t ask that. Not on your first day. There are rules, and you’re a newbie. We have to pick you apart first, see what makes you tick before you get to know about us.” Dean opened his mouth to make a sarcastic retort, but Garth was quick and pushed past him towards the door. “Come on. Let me introduce you to some real nutballs.”




Name: Dean Henry Winchester

Age: 21 years old

Diagnosis: Sexual Deviant. Homosexuality

Notes: Extremely agitated, in denial of his illness, high risk, discovered in mid copulation with another male, denies that he forced himself on said male


“Cassy it’s okay. I love you.” Balthazar kissed Castiel on the mouth firmly, slipping his tongue between castiel’s lips. Castiel closed his eyes and carded his fingers through Balthazar’s hair, yanking his head back to attack his neck.


“I love you too Balthazar. Always.” He whispered against his lover’s neck, placing a chaste kiss to his adam’s apple.


Castiel cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, shaking the impure thoughts from his mind. He stared at the photograph attached to the file of Dean Winchester. The boy was very handsome. Soft blonde hair, bright green eyes, dozens of freckles, masculine in almost every way. Or so it seemed. His file was red flagged, which meant he could become dangerous, if left untreated. Castiel made notes, deciding he would see him first. As he was the one in most need at the moment.




“Pamela! Hey Pam!” Garth tugged Dean along towards the rec room. It was a larger area of the hospital with a few couches and chairs, some tables and board games setup. Garth pulled Dean towards a table in the back, where two girls and another boy sat. One of the girls, she had black hair and fierce eyes, looked up at Dean and licked her lips. Dean felt his cheeks flush with heat. “Hey guys, this is Dean Winchester. He’s new here.” Dean nodded to the three patients, who stared at him passively. “Dean this is Pamela.” Pamela was the one who’d licked her lips when she saw him, “That’s Jo.” Jo had blonde hair and big brown eyes. Her smile was kind but she seemed elsewhere, her eyes glazed over with whatever drug they’d given her. “And this is Chuck,” Chuck seemed nervous. He had brown curly hair and watery blue eyes. He fidgeted and twitched in his seat, eyes darting all around, as if someone was going to attack him.


“Nice to meet you,” Dean mumbled shyly. Pamela pulled out the chair beside her and patted the seat.


“Come’ere baby. Why don’t you sit down next to me,” Dean made his way to sit down, but Garth took the spot before he could. Pamela scowled at him.


“You want to get thrown into isolation again for misconduct?” Pamela grumbled and slumped in her seat slightly when Dean sat across from her, next to Jo. Jo’s head lolled from side to side and rested, briefly on his shoulder, before falling gently to the table. Dean looked at her alarmed. “It’s okay,” Dean looked up to see Garth watching him curiously, trying to gauge his reaction, “It’s a sedative. Jo can be a little violent. They like to keep her doped up so she doesn’t hurt herself.”


“Or another guard.” Pamela and Garth snickered. Chuck ran a shaky hand through his hair, licking his lips and continuously clearing his throat. He reminded Dean of someone hopped up on drugs. He wondered vaguely if that’s what he was in for.


“So uh, uh, Dean. Dean? What got you put in here?” Chuck’s words were slurred and just as jittery as he was. Dean had to run the question back through his mind, slowly, to comprehend.


“Um..No offense but, I’d rather not share that just yet,” Pamela leaned across the table, the top of her hospital gown pulled away from her neck, when Dean looked down he could see the tops of her breasts, smooth and white. He blushed furiously.


“Ooh,” she cooed, “Someone was a bad boy.” she jumped and snarled at Garth, who must have kicked her under the table or something, because she straightened up, crossed her arms and proceeded to pout.


“Pay no mind to her. She likes making people uncomfortable. And Dean,” Garth reached out and placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, it was light, a friendly gesture, but Dean still cringed inwardly. “You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want too. I didn’t trust anyone my first day either.” Dean nodded.


“Thanks Garth.”




Naomi knocked on the door before entering Castiel’s office. Castiel was hunched over his desk, writing and looking through paper work, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Yes? What is it?” he asked without a glance upwards. Naomi crossed the room and sat down across from him.


“Just wondering how things are coming along.” Castiel straightened up and pushed his glasses back up his nose. He had an odd look about him, an old one, as if he’d lived many, many years and was bored with tedious questions and talk.


“Everything is fine. I am just going through patient files, sorting out worst case from least worst.”




“I’d like to see Dean Winchester first, if you don’t mind.” he handed Dean’s file to Naomi, who leafed through it. She’d already read the reports on him early so she merely scanned the pages. “He seems to be the worst case scenario. Denying he’s done any wrong, or that he’s sick at all. I’d like to give him a proper diagnosis. So I can decide where to go from there for treatment.” Naomi nodded, setting the file back on Castiel’s desk.


“that sounds like an excellent idea….The patients are about to be served lunch. Afterwards I’ll have him brought to you. Have you seen the rest of the hospital yet?” Castiel shook his head.


“I’m sure if I need any help finding things the orderlies will help me.”


“Just don’t ask the patients. They like to play with people. You could ask where the restroom is and end up in the shock therapy room.” Castiel chuckled, it was a low, belly deep sound. His eyes crinkled.


“I will keep that in mind.” Naomi stood and headed towards the door.


“If there’s anything else?”

“I will let you know. Thank you ma’am.” Castiel sat back as she closed the door and rubbed his temples. A slight headache emerging out of irritation for that woman. He sighed and looked back at the file of Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester. What could he unearth about this young man in one hour?

Chapter Text

Dean was still sitting in the Rec room with Garth, when a shrill whistle made him jump, almost out of his chair. No one else seemed phased. Sister Hannah stood in the middle of the room, a silver whistle leaving her lips.

“Everyone form a single file line!” Chairs scraped and patients grumbled as they stood and formed a line in front of Sister Hannah. Garth had reached out and placed a hand on Dean’s arm. Waiting until they were at the end of the procession.

“It’s best not to put yourself out there. You’re new, and some of these guys love fresh meat.” Garth whispered harshly in Dean’s ear. Dean swallowed hard and nodded.

“Alright,” Sister Hannah walked in front of the line, a tight smile stretched over her teeth. “It’s time for lunch and I want no shenanigans today. You will walk quietly, in line down to the cafeteria.” she turned and headed towards the door, the line moved awkwardly, trying to stay in step. “Follow me.”


Castiel dry heaved once more into the bucket. Images danced across the projector, and medicine continued to pump into his veins, making him nauseous. He looked up, lip quivering, eyes watering, to see another image of a perfectly sculpted naked man. He felt bile, rising, hot and acidic once more into his throat, he doubled over, heaving once more into the bucket.

This was the treatment for his illness. The punishment for his perversion. This would be the cure for him. And it would be the cure for Dean Winchester as well.


Dean was sitting at a round table with Garth, Pamela, Chuck and Jo. The food wasn't too bad, though the salad was a little brown and the bread stale. They ate in silence, only the sound of chewing and swallowing could be heard.

"Dean Winchester?" An orderly walked up to the table, "You have a therapy session with Doctor Milton." Dean looked at Garth who shrugged and went back to eating. Dean stood and flinched when the orderly took him under his elbow. "Easy there, just a precaution. Don't want you running away now."

Dean felt his heart racing as they walked down the hall, away from the noise in the cafeteria. He'd never been to therapy before, nor had he ever spoken to a shrink.

The orderly knocked twice in the third door from the right, just above the area where the cafeteria was. Dean heard something moving around in the room before a low voice answered 'come in.'

Dr. Milton was a couple inches shorter than Dean. He had a head of thick black hair and stubble along his jaw. His eyes were the bluest Dean had ever seen. He suddenly felt intimated under the doctor's curious gaze. He held out a hand, Dean hesitated before taking it.

"Hello Dean."

Chapter Text

The orderly closed the door quietly behind him and Dr. Milton motioned for Dean to sit. He watched as the doctor pushed his glasses up his nose, with the tip of his finger and folded his hands nearly on the desk.

"I understand this is your first day as well. How has it been so far?"Dean felt nervous, unsure as to why Dr. Milton hadn't gone right into interrogation.

"Alright I guess," Dr. Milton looked down at a paper, scanned it with his eyes and looked back up at Dean.

"I suppose we can skip over the casualties and get right into the therapy." Dean shrugged, slipping down his seat a little. "It says here you are a homosexual yes?" Dean swallowed hard, his ears were burning. He gave a sharp nod. "When did you first notice you were....ill?" Dean blanched, looking at Dr. Milton like he'd grown an extra head. Anger started to build from deep within.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Being in love with someone isn't sick....I did nothing wrong," he thought he saw Dr. Milton's lip twitch, some sign of shock. But it was gone before Dean could register what it was. He looked down, scribbling something on his notepad.

"Tell me about him. What was his name." Dr. Milton crossed his legs and leaned back, pen and notepad in hand. Dean cleared his throat. He really didn't want to talk about him. "Dean until I think you are able to go out into society you're stuck here, with me. Everyday, for sixty minutes. We can sit in silence or get to the root of your issues. But it's your choice." Dean but his lip, his eyes dropping from Dr. Milton's.

"His name was Eric. H-he was my first and only boyfriend."

"Did you ever have a girlfriend?" Dean shook his head, Dr. Milton scribbled on his notepad.

"No I....I was never into girls. That's why I'm not sick Doc. How can I be sick if I've always been this way?" Dr. Milton looked at Dean with raised eyebrows.

"You believe you were born like this?" Dean nodded shyly. " tell me more about Eric. When did you meet?"

Dean talked openly, for the first time about his relationship with Eric Hossler. He revealed more to the doctor than he had to anyone else. It was strange. But maybe, maybe he wanted to brag, to tell someone about the love he had shared. And he couldn't help but feel a sense of pride, even now, talking about Eric.

"But this was before the night you got caught?" Dr. Milton tapped his pen against his forehead, rocking from side to side in his chair. "Tell me about that." Dean licked his lips in thought.

"His parents were supposed to be out of town ya know? All weekend it was supposed to be the two of us. I went over there and....and we never wasted anytime. His parents, they came in during," Dean hesitated. "I was on top of him when they came in. And that moment, I knew it was over." Dr. Milton lit a cigarette, he took a long drag, smoke billowing from his nose.

"They didn't take it well." Dean scoffed.

"Obviously. They threw a shit fit. Eric made it seem like I forced him...,they agreed not to press charges if I got straight. Got cured," Dean paused, brow furrowing, "only thing is like I said, how can you cure something I've been my whole life?"

"It'll take time Dean. Intense treatment. But if you're willing and strong enough we can get through it and you'll be cured. I wanna thank you Dean, for being so open with me, I know this must be very hard for you. But we'll start treatment immediately and by fall you'll be on your way back to university." Dean looked at the doctor in awe. Dr. Milton seemed so sure, so confident in himself, in his work. It was hard for Dean NOT to believe him. Dr. Milton stood and stretched out his hand.

"You really think I can be cured?" Dr. Milton's smile was warm as he squeezed Dean's hand.

"Everyone can be saved Dean. Everyone."


Castiel stroked himself fast, fingers wrapped loosely around his cock. He couldn't wait, the minute Dean closed the door he'd had to relieve himself.

It's not that he's a pervert. Or at least he didn't think he was. He liked Dean. Dean was handsome, and seemed like a good guy. The kind of guy who wouldn't mind being coddled and loved on. The type of guy Castiel couldn't resist. The moment he'd locked eyes with Dean there had been this pull. This magnetic bond that seemed to develop as they talked, as Castiel learned more about the twang haired, freckle faced beauty. There was chemistry he couldn't deny.

His thoughts were in Dean's plush lips, wrapped around his cock, sucking him down deep, because he could take it. He would take it just like that. Castiel grunted, precum smearing on his hand, slicking him up. He came with Dean's name on his lips, the image of Dean on his knees, swallowing every drop burned into his mind.

He sat down with a heavy sob, cleaning himself up and burying his face in his hands. He was never going to be fixed. He was a fraud. Curing others, and unable to cure himself. Weak in the knees for a patient he'd just met.

"Why! Why!" He whispered to himself, banging his fists on the sides of his head, tears rolling hot and heavy down his cheeks. "Why can't you change!? Why won't you allow yourself to be cured!?" There was no answer. But Dean's words from early on rang in his ears.

"how can you cure something I've been my whole life?" He didn't know why, but the thought of being born that way comforted him.

Chapter Text

Dean left the session feeling confused. On one hand he still believed he had done nothing wrong. He's loved Eric, he'd loved Eric more than he even thought was possible. But on the other hand he wanted to be cured. He wanted to be better and he wanted to make his family proud. His whole life he'd felt guilty, ashamed. Eyes lingered too long on chiseled chests and not long enough of breasts and slim legs. He knew he was different, but when he had been with Eric, for the first time, he didn't feel.....He didn't feel bad about himself.

The orderly that had taken him to see Dr. Milton escorted him back to his room, where Garth was sitting, cross legged and reading. As soon as Dean was in the room the door was shut and locked behind him. He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed, his toes, touching the cement floor.

"So how was your first session?" Garth grumbled, eyes still scanning the book he was reading. It was a little funny, Garth's eyes moved rapidly over the pages. Dean let his body fall back on the hard mattress.

"I don't know. I feel confused." He threw his arm over his eyes and continued murmuring, "I thought what we had was right, now I don't know.....What if I am crazy?"

"You seem pretty sane to me," Dean lifted his arm to peak at Garth, who was now turned to face him. "But then again I'm not the greatest example of sanity so what do I know." Dean chuckled and rubbed his hand over his face.

"I don't know how you do it. Seeing shrinks, following orders, being treated like you're a loose cannon."

"When you don't have a choice, you learn awful fast."


Castiel was relieved to be done with patients for the day. He always felt like a hypocrite after he finished his sessions. Telling people what was wrong with them, while not acknowledging his own problems. He was the the sick one.

He'd been given two options at his last occupation in Sydney. Either be committed and revealed as a fraud or leave and never return. The same couldn't be said for her lover, Balthazar, who had been committed. Castiel still got shudders when he remembered the look of distress on Balthazar's face. As two orderlies led him away. He'd cried out for Castiel, who in turn walked away, without a second glance.

It hadn't taken him long to find a new job, many hospitals were lacking in conversion therapists and he was of high caliber. A great asset, according to his last employer before he'd been found out. So he settled, in the little town of Lawrence, planning to keep his head down and live quietly. It seemed like a great idea.

Until Dean Winchester.

Yes, Dean Winchester would complicate things. Castiel realized this the moment he laid eyes on the younger boy.


By dinner time Dean was more than ready to go back home. He missed his bed and his comic collection. Aside from a few brief conversations with Garth he'd been silent, staring at the ceiling in his room, trying to figure out something fun to do. He let his tray clatter on the table, as he slumped next to Pamela.

"Hey so did you guys hear about the new therapist? His name's Dr. Milton." Dean nearly choked on his milk. He cleared his throat and room another swig before answering.

"I had a session with him today." Pamela's eyes widened, she moved closer, thigh touching Dean's as she pressed against him.

"I heard he killed a patient. Couple of em. That's why he's here." Garth rolled his eyes and shook his head when Dean looked to him for help. Pamela just leaned closer, her breath hot in his ear. "I also heard....he doesn't like women-"

"Pamela shut up!" Garth snapped, clearly annoyed. "Don't listen to her Dean. Rumors happen all the time here. And you can't believe them cuz they're told by crazies." Pamela stuck her tongue out and say back in her seat, picking at her ham and cheese sandwich.

"Whatever. All I know is he's weird. I've never seen a doctor act so stiff and detached. He could be a serial killer." She pointed her fork at Garth. "And we wouldn't know. A crazy hospital is the best hunting grounds..." Dean drowned them out, thoughts turned to Dr. Milton. Wondering again, about the conversion therapy, the cure for being gay. All of it. Somehow, the thought of the cure, was scarier than any serial killer Dean might have to face.