Author's note: This is just a little inside peek into Dean's mind. This takes place pre-series, shortly before season one begins. I really hope all of you enjoy my work. And, for the record, I will NEVER ask, beg, or plead for reviews. Personally, I hate that shit. It turns me off immediately. If you wish to comment, that's fine. If not, well that's fine too. I appreciate the time you take just to read my work. If you think you have the balls to be a hateful little shit and flame me or troll, be prepared for the consequences because I will verbally cut you to shreds. I don't tolerate that on ANYONE'S work. So that's it! Enjoy!

Dean doesn't really hate hospitals as much as he let's on. Oh he puts a convincing act on alright, but, truth be told, he, well, he kinda doesn't really mind.

At.

All.

Sure, yeah, of course some shit sucks, see lack of freedom, catheters, personal space invasions, ugly nurses, but it also means someone gives a fuck about YOU.

ONLY YOU. Not your father. Not your younger brother, but YOU.

YOU.

Y

O

U

YOU.

YOU matter.

YOUR health, YOUR comfort.

"More blankets, sweetie." Fuck yeah man! And they're waaaarm.

Warm.

Fucking.

Blankets.

I mean, come on, seriously, what the fuck is better than warm fucking blankets.

Warm blankets are fucking AWESOME.

Where was I again?

Oh yeah. Heh.

Why, I, Dean Winchester, do not, actually, hate hospitals. Can't let 'em know though. I do have a rep, ya know.

Ima make a list. I like lists. I do. I really do like making lists.

So, without further adieu, auf Wiedersehen, adios, sayonara, here it is:

(Apparently I like colons too. Who knew?)

Reasons why hospitals are awesome according to lifelong expert in the world, or realm….of, of… shit. I forgot. Oh! Yeah! Ha! I'm an expert in medicinal receiving care. Or is better to say receiving medicinal care?

Damn it. I did it again. Shit.

Any-hoo….

Here. List:

1. They care about you.

2. They take your pain away. (With some really, really, really good fucking drugs, dude. Oh yeah…)

3. They check on you.

4. They feed you.

5. They make sure you eat that food. Even though the food ain't always

that great, but, hey, I have had waaaaaay worse. I've also starved, so all in all, A fucking plus, gold fuckin' star, man.

6. Make sure YOU have everything YOU need.

7. Someone cares about you.

7.5. No one else but you.(At that moment they're with you)

7.75. Did I mention they care about you?

8. It's a place where you, for once, don't have to worry about ANYTHING.

9. They keep you alive. Welllll….. Most of the time anyway.

10. They. Care. About. You. Your welfare. Your well being. I think I covered that, right? Man, I love morphine. Or is dilauded? Oxy? No, stronger than oxy's. Hee hee hee, I do like them. Ahhh…. Maybe fentanyl? All three? Eh, they're all good. Oh yeah. Yes please and danke. Danke, danke, danke. Where was I? Ha! They care about you!

Not your father, who loves to drink until he can't see straight and beats you so bad you piss blood for the next week and a half. The father who treats you like his soldier and not his FUCKING SON! Son who fails him. Constantly. From soldier to whipping boy to punching bag to almost a fuck toy to failure. Worthless. A soldier who is nowhere near as important as his father's true son.

Not your younger brother who went from worshipping you to being disgusted and disappointed in you for being such a good little daddy's perfect soldier; that, little does your brother know, you only behave like that out of pure terror; that you do everything your 'father' says, just so that your father will notice you, give his approval and say he's proud of you and love you–you obey your father so you don't have pitifully to say: "Hey! Dad! I exist! I'm your SON! Please love me!". Your brother doesn't know that and he won't ever know because he can't see past his selfish nose. Your brother who assumes you eat too much and are gross because of it, because you always say how full you are 'cause you "ate so much", nevermind that you haven't eaten in 3 days just so your brother can eat. You tell him that to spare him the knowledge that his father is not infallible, that his brother is terribly weak and full of shit!

Your brother who has no idea that you've had to do horrible things to make sure there's food and shelter and warmth and school for him; that all his needs are met. Your brother who complains to your father how shitty of a brother you are because sometimes you sleep so long and forget simple things because your father or some random guy beat you to hell and back and most of the time you're actually unconscious and THAT'S why you fail to take or pick your brother to or up from school. Your brother who doesn't realize that when he complains about that, that your father beats you yet again, starting the cycle over. Your brother, and father, and most everyone except Bobby, and Sonny (Two. Count 'em, TWO PEOPLE IN THE WHOLE WORLD who don't think you're stupid) …..where was I?

Oh.

THERE.

Yeah, your brother and father who think you're dumb as shit because your brother is the important one and you can't be better or smarter than him. And you dropped out of school (pfft. As if I really had a real, normal school experience that lasted longer than a month or two) to take care of your little brother and try to work to support your little family.

They think you're dumb because they don't pay attention to you and constantly write you off. Contrary to their belief, you ARE well read. They have no clue that more often than not, your alone time was not spent fucking everything that walks and jerking off, but reading. Reading all kinds of things. Especially your little brothers school books while he sleeps. They don't know that you were forced to teach yourself to read at age 4 so that you could care for your little brother. They don't realize that Uncle Bobby helped to teach you too. That being at Uncle Bobby's was the best shit ever because cars.

They don't realize that because you're too busy taking care of them. Taking punches from your father, bullies in groups of four or more, weird monsters, the words from all their mouths, except the monsters. Fuck them. They don't realize that words hurt sometimes a whole hell of a lot more. Sure, you can take a beating. It's a hell of a lot easier, than being treated with affection and kindness. They don't know that you can't bear a gentle, kind, touch because they've never even tried and you're so emotionally starved that a kind touch would burn and shatter you. Your father cuts you off emotionally because emotions—showing emotions— make you weak and if you, God fucking help you if you dare show any, you break by his hand or your soul. And if you do break, you're broken. And if you're broken, you're no good.

You can't win.

You don't ever get a break.

You haven't since you turned four.

Your father needs you for his anger outlet.

Your brother needs you for everything.

No one cares what you need.

No one WANTS to care.

No one WANTS to know.

No one gives a rats ass if your needs are met.

No one cares what your needs are.

But when a monster or when your father is the monster and you end up in the hospital,

They care.

They care so you don't have to.

So that for once, you can breathe.

You can relax.

You can heal.

You're warm and safe and someone cares about you.

Someone WILL come when you call.

Someone will help you when you hurt instead of making you do it yourself.

Someone finally, finally says YOU MATTER.

Dean doesn't hate hospitals.

Dean loves hospitals.

Because.

Someone.

Cares.

About.

Dean.