Prologue

She sat huddled in the chair, long hair sitting lank across her face, concealing a blank expression and empty eyes. He flips through a file in his hand, repressing a sigh as he scans over the familiar documents inside.

Approximately twenty six years old, found unconscious on the side of the road, covered in blood and dirt and injuries synonymous with months, if not years, of systematic imprisonment and torture. Jane Doe. Cold case.

The police believed that whoever it was that had attacked her had kept her for a long time, before burying her alive. Her story makes every single staffer in the hospital all the more sympathetic to the silent patient.

When she had first arrived, it had been like dealing with a rabid animal, feral and afraid. He believed that with whatever happened to her, she hadn't had any kind of positive human interaction in a long long time. No interaction with another human being that didn't result in pain or fear. But in the past few months, an abrupt change had occurred in her condition.

She went from feral, to empty in the course of a few days. She hardly responded to outside stimuli, and continued her pattern of complete muteness. But now, instead of light growls or snarls, she just sits in an eerie silence that unsettles the other patients. Jane Doe mostly just drifts through the day, completely ignoring anyone around her.

At night, however, he is forced to lock her away in a padded room, strapped tightly to her bed, so that as she lashes out in terror, she can't hurt herself or others, as one of the nurses found out the hard way during her first night. She broke three ribs and shattered the poor man's elbow before they were able to wake her. And even then, she was like a cornered animal, rabid and afraid. It had taken several orderlies and a heavy dose of tranquilizers to calm her down. They aren't equipped to deal with violent patients; but Jane Doe isn't violent. Not really. So they drug her heavily at night, and lock her away while they exchange sympathetic glances as she cried and screamed and thrashed in her sleep. Then watch her carefully during the day as she simply… exists.

Dr. Fuller closed the file gently, finally looking up at his favorite patient. Challenging, dangerous and broken; still at her core, there was something he could see as innately good. The only time she hurt people was if she or someone else was in any perceived danger. Or if she was having a nightmare.

"The nurses tell me that you're not taking your medication. You wanna tell me why?" He asked her gently. Not really expecting a reply, but the interaction would be good for her. Hopefully someday he would reach the small part of her brain the person she used to be was hiding inside of.

"Jane?" The doctor asked her again gently. She ignored him. Just like always. He wished that he knew her real name. But she won't talk, and the police found no ID on her. No matches to any missing persons database, nothing on her fingerprints or her DNA. So Jane she remained. He took another glance at his notes from other patients.

"Is this about the monster the others are seeing? About Annie?" Nothing. He stood up and moved around his desk slowly, both hands out in front of him to show her he wasn't going to hurt her. That was important. If Jane thought she was in danger, she would lash out. And he didn't want to be forced to send her away to a different facility. Dr. Fuller crouched down in front of her, his dark eyes meeting her sharp grey irises.

Internally he smiled. Some progress at least. Usually, she won't meet anyone's gaze, her eyes darting all over, always on guard for some perceived threat. Outwardly, he sighed, gently smoothing back several strands of dark hair from her face.

"I know Annie was a friend of yours, and what happened to her was painful for all of us. But just because others see a monster to help make her passing easier, doesn't mean you should believe them. You need that medicine Jane. It will help you." Her gaze was eerie. An icy stormy grey, her eyes held his own gaze steadily, the once vacant expression gaining a spark of something. He wasn't sure what it was. And even as he felt a flicker of triumph with the progress he'd made, he had a tremulous feeling he didn't want to know what that something was.

AN: Annnnnnd we're back! Updates will be slow, but the adventure now continues nearly three years after Anna's fall into Hell. This story begins during the Supernatural episode Sam Interrupted (S:5 E:11)