Day 38 - Doctor's Office 3 [Dr. Kisugi] [Second Shift]

[damned_doctors]

It was her first day of work in a new facility, but Dr. Makiko Kisugi wasn't feeling nervous at all. To the contrary, all she felt was a sense of anticipation, an eagerness to see what opportunities might arise in a place such as this.

She was far from home, though, and so painfully new that she'd not dare take too many liberties as yet. As

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[theroadsofar]

Dean shrugged. "Okay, sure, we can do that. I'm pretty sure the pig-in-a-blanket I had for breakfast is givin' me cramps, the bandage here," he pointed at his forehead, "is itchin' like a mother and I'm wonderin' just what's the point of talkin' about how I feel."

He said that last bit like it was something as useful as underwater basket weaving. Dean had been blown off by his share of chicks - a guy didn't always score - and he was getting a positively glacial vibe off Doctor Kisugi. She didn't seem too impressed with him. Now wasn't exactly the place to try to get laid, he knew, and anyway, he probably had a better chance with the nurse than with this chick: she wasn't exactly looking down at him but he definitely wasn't imagining the professional distance she was doing a good job at maintaining. It wouldn't be as easy as empty promises and a night in the nearest motel to get on her good side. He could live with that. What he didn't like was getting stuck here in something that would've pissed him off even before all this Cold Oak bullcrap.

Dean kept on the game face. He still didn't know if she was a demon playing nice or if she was a regular human who really did think all of this was real. All he knew was he was stuck alone in a room with her and that alone was making him antsy.

[damned_doctors]

So he wanted to play self-assured and unaffected. Very well, then. "The point is that I'm here to help you get better, Eric. If you don't wish to cooperate, there's very little that I can do for you." Makiko's smile widened slightly as she regarded her patient, but it never touched her eyes. "If you don't wish to talk about how you feel, perhaps we could talk about the feelings of those who are waiting for you at home?"

She stilled the absent pen-tapping, reaching out instead to flip a couple of pages in his file, as though checking on some details. He wouldn't miss the significance of that, she was certain, and wondered how he would react. "You do want to return to them, do you not?"

[theroadsofar]

Dean's expression remained the same, but his eyes flicked down to follow the doctor as she reached out and rifled through a couple of pages in a file - his file, he assumed. The only reaction at her words was a faint tightening of his casual smile, even as he shrugged.

"You tell me," Dean said. He did mean it, though - if he was supposed to be impersonating someone or pretending to be this Eric Derringer, it'd help to know the details. As of right now, all he had to play along with was the name and the fact he was "supposed" to be in a mental institute and therefore unhinged. He pushed the seat back a little more, the legs of the plastic chair scrapping on the floor, and got more comfortable, settling down like she was gonna read him a story.

He did concede one point: if he brought up Sammy, maybe he'd get clued in on if he was here or outside of Landels. "Been really lookin' forward to seeing my brother, though, now that you mention it."

He didn't name names; for all he knew, Sammy was saddled up with his own alias or this doctor was fishing for that kind of detail. Dean made it no secret he was checking out the doctor even as she studied the file, knowing he had about an icecube's chance in hell and not caring.

[damned_doctors]

"That would hardly be productive, though," Makiko replied, in a gently chiding tone. The scrape of the chair legs against the tile floor elicited a faint, almost unnoticeable flicker of irritation, visible if he was watching closely - such annoying sounds were entirely unnecessary and out of place. Still, she continued speaking without missing a beat. "If I tell you how you should think or feel or be, then how would you ever learn to recover?"

At Eric's mention of his brother, she glanced down toward the file again, skimming a finger along the text until she paused at a particular line. "Are you? I'm not so certain that he'd agree, after the last time he saw you." She kept watch on him from the periphery of her vision as she spoke, wondering if he'd prove himself to be amusing or no. "Your mother, though, was more who I was thinking of. She was quite upset by your...breakdown."

[theroadsofar]

Dean did snort out loud this time. What, was he pissed he'd gotten there too late? Was that what she was trying to say? Dean didn't say anything at first, although it was clearly a sore spot for him that he hadn't gotten to Cold Oak in time to save Sammy. Or did he somehow know about the deal? Honestly, how could he? He'd been with Sammy for maybe a few hours before they'd driven off to Bobby's, it wasn't like there was a whole lot of time there to get really suspicious and put two and two together.

Still, other that that, he couldn't for the life of him figure out what he was supposed to have done to piss off Sammy that much that he wouldn't want to see him.

Assuming this wasn't some elaborate trick in the first place...

And then there was the mention of Mom. Dean's smile did fade at this despite himself; if Sammy was a sore subject, his Mom was another. What did she think she knew about Mom? Hell, what was there to even know? She'd been dead since he was a kid and he'd be damned if some stuck-up frosty bitch with a Ph.D was gonna tell him "Mommy Dearest" didn't love him enough when he was little. She was talking like she was alive, which was such a load of crap - he had to tell himself to chill out and remember this wasn't really him, but some unlucky bastard called Eric Derringer, whose family might very well be still alive. Dean had made such a rookie mistake, getting too lost in all the details and taking them personally.

The darkening expression on his face lightened as he took a second to pick at his bandages, inspecting them for some imaginary lint, and then looked up.

"Guess I must've blacked that part out," Dean said, remembering this time to fish for information. His tone was neutral, despite the new rueful smile. "The breakdown, I mean."

[damned_doctors]

There, a reaction. Eric wasn't as strong as he believed himself to be; they never were. Everyone had their weaknesses, the little cracks in their psyches where it was so very simple to prod and pry and twist until they squirmed and did exactly what you wanted them to. Not that he'd be terribly useful to her, not in the way that she wanted.

Still, though, it was a way to pass the time.

She glanced up at him again, one brow lifting just slightly. "Did you?" Her fingertip tapped against the file as she considered. It was always far easier to just get the patient talking, let them ramble about whatever inane concerns they might have. This one, however, seemed far more interested in letting her talk.

"I suppose that the events that led to your attempted suicide would have been quite traumatic," she replied, with some vague pretense at a concerned expression. "You remember none of that?"

[theroadsofar]

Dean shook his head. That much was true, he was pretty sure if he really had tried to off himself, he'd remember; granted, there was a lot of times he'd almost died, but that was the downside of hunting - the shit hunted right back and sometimes it got you, sometimes it didn't. Unless she meant the deal...which, he now that he thought about, was pretty much as good as suicide, just with an expiration date in a year. And it was guaranteed, there wasn't any way to botch it or get out of it or hope someone called 911 on your sorry ass.

Still, he didn't consider that really suicide. He'd done it to save Sammy and he'd do it all over again if he had to 'cause there was no contest between their lives. It wasn't like he'd got pissed his favorite TV show got canceled and that the next logical thing to do was to start carving up his wrists.

"Nope, none, Doc," Dean said cheerfully, although he was probably laying it on a little thick now. Dean didn't crack easily but he'd be lying if he said Doctor Kisugi wasn't starting to get annoying. Everything she did seemed so irritatingly deliberate, from the way she was tapping his file to the concerned expression on her face. "Kinda like startin' over though, not remembering."

[damned_doctors]

"I suppose it would be." Makiko leaned back in her chair again, leaving the file sitting open, though it was arranged and neatly aligned with the desk's edge. It was entirely possible for someone to blank out a traumatic event, and according to his file, Eric had managed to blank out almost his entire life. It seemed plausible enough that he was telling the truth by claiming he didn't remember, though the way he was acting now made her wonder.

Well. If he wasn't going to be cooperative, she might as well try to amuse herself. At least, as much as was possible without attracting...attention.

She regarded her patient for a moment longer, then changed tactics, recalling how she'd managed to get a reaction earlier. "I see that you remember other details of your life, though. Your brother, for instance, and your mother. What about your fath--ah, no." She flicked a glance toward the file again and shook her head slightly. "My apologies, I hadn't read closely enough."

[theroadsofar]

Dad. She just had to bring up Dad. The man was almost a year gone but Dean knew he hadn't even begun to get over losing him; he supposed he should feel closer now that they both earned tickets to Hell, but he didn't.

He felt angry. It'd been pissing him off from day one, when Dad leaned over his hospital bed and whispered his instructions about Sammy. Now that he knew the truth about how he'd suddenly keeled over dead, he wanted to shake him, yell at him all over again. It didn't make sense, Dean knew, but he couldn't help feeling that way. Maybe, he thought sarcastically, I'll get a chance in Hell to ream him good. But he knew there was also a part of him, a big part, that wanted nothing more than to see Dad again just like he remembered him, even the parts that always fought with Sammy and didn't tell him what was going on. Dean grit his teeth behind a tight-lipped smile, jaw working slightly.

Why did he get the feeling Doctor Kisugi was trying to rile him up?

Looking at her, he saw she was just gazing at him with that same disinterested, politely medical look.

"He's dead," Dean said, and was surprised his voice was level. "I was there when he died. Not much more to tell other than that.

[damned_doctors]

Not much more? Makiko arched one brow just slightly, giving the man a look that conveyed mild disbelief. His reaction had been fairly easy for her to see, even if he had managed to keep it out of his voice. "Perhaps. But clearly it affected you, Eric. A parent's death is never an easy thing to deal with."

She reached over and made a note on the file, the gesture seemingly idle even though each word was formed with neat and careful precision. "Your mother believes that you took it hard. That perhaps it was part of what drove you to...act as you did. What do you think?"

It was all so tedious, really. Patients with strange delusions and problems that in no way concerned her. Baiting them was mildly amusing, but when they weren't even worth feeding from, there wasn't too much point.

[theroadsofar]

"I'm thinkin' you're way off the mark, sister," Dean said. He spread his hands on the armrests, as if going you serious. "I wouldn't go around slashin' up my wrists or whatever because of that. I mean, I loved the guy, but that's not me."

Not when Sammy needed to be looked out after. If Kisugi had just switched Dad for Sammy, then she would have been creepily right on the ball there, only it had happened that way, it wasn't just speculation by some armchair Ph.D who thought she was hot shit. Dean wasn't proud of how he'd treated Bobby a few days ago but he'd meant every word he'd said to the other hunter back in that shack, with Sam's body only a room away: he hadn't cared what happened, and if the world burned, it wasn't his problem. Part of him still wasn't sure if it was because it was terrified he'd lose Sammy all over again hunting that yellow-eyed sonuvabitch...but Sammy was committed to the hunt and he sure as hell wasn't gonna let his brother go after the thing solo.

"So what's your story?" Dean asked, as if they hadn't been talking about suicide and dead parents. He reached out with a "may I?" for her neatly positioned pencil jar and took it without waiting for an answer, inspecting it idly as he lounged back in the plastic waiting room chair. "Obviously you're smart, attractive, and it looks to me you're bored outta your skull. I'm guessin' this wasn't your idea."

[damned_doctors]

"Tried to stab yourself in the chest, actually," Makiko corrected almost absently, her attention still ostensibly on the file in front of herself. "Of course, this was after you'd abandoned your brother to fend for himself in the middle of nowhere, while going on about...hmm." She paused, flipped back a couple of pages, then continued, "A monster that was making you imagine your life. Fascinating."

She glanced up as the man appropriated her pencil jar, giving a brief frown but not bothering to try to stop him. It only held a few rather ordinary-looking pencils (all at the same perfectly sharp point, of course) and a couple of pens, twins of the one she began to idly tap against her desktop again.

"My story?" The doctor looked him over again, eyes narrowing just slightly as she did; for an instant she looked more like she was assessing a piece of meat than looking at another human. She wanted (needed, with a desperation bordering on ravenous) to toy with him, to taste his blood, but it was an impulse that couldn't be indulged here. Not now. Not yet.

The moment passed quickly, though, and she continued, her voice calm as she forced the violent urge back into submission once more. "We're not here to speak about me, Eric. I'm here to help you." Some might have actually believed the smile she gave there, if they weren't looking too closely.

[theroadsofar]

Tried to -

Wait, this sounded familiar. So did a monster like her description.

Dean's eyebrow rose higher and higher as he stared at her as Kisugi meticulously went through more of the details of what supposedly happened. Well, shit, he did remember this. That one time with the djinn, where he'd thought a wish - one he hadn't even said out loud before - might've come true, a world where Mom hadn't died, where they hadn't ever become hunters...where Sammy still had Jessica, only there were no Winchester brothers hunting evil. They'd never gotten close. The Sammy he knew didn't exist, but he was happy, which had been the important thing. It'd been one of the hardest things he'd had to do, breaking himself out of the djinn's world.

He'd stabbed himself.

But he hadn't ditched Sam on that trip to the warehouse, which got him wondering what other details had changed. Was he still in the djinn's clutches? Seemed highly unlikely, because that acid-trip had been pretty specific in him having a "good long life" where he'd be happy. Seeing Sammy get killed in some ass end of nowhere and having one year to live? Wasn't his definition of a long happy life. It seemed just as shitty as things generally were supposed to be. Chewing this over and toying with the pencils - it hadn't escaped his notice each was sharpened to a perfect, exact point that he had the urge to snap just 'cause - Dean happened to glance up.

The doctor was looking at him weird. Not hey-your-fly's-open weird. More like he was the world's most delicious T-bone and she was craving some prime red-meat. But it was gone the next second, blink or you'll miss it fast and leaving Dean wondering if he'd even seen anything.

But he hadn't survived for as long as he did by thinking he'd imagined things. That was usually the second, best case scenario choice in his line of work. Dean wasn't sure why she'd been looking at him like that, but he was on his guard; rather than tensing, his shoulders relaxed. This he could deal with. Dean knew it was messed up he'd feel more comfortable sitting across from someone (something?) that might want to kill him instead of talking about his feelings in therapy. But hey, that was life. He liked his damn comfort zone.

Dean returned the smile, "Telling me I tried to kill myself by stabbin' myself in the chest is your definition of help? No wonder I thought therapy was crap." He leaned forward, taking the time to fold his bandaged arms on her desk. "Might want to work on those people skills, sweetheart."

[damned_doctors]

As he leaned forward Makiko almost absently slid her nameplate out of the way, lest he try to push it somewhere as he'd already been trying to rearrange small parts of her office. "You were the one who said you had no memory of the events, Eric," she pointed out with complete and utter calm, as her pen remained poised above the file, ready to add another note. "Does finding out the truth upset you, then?"

That was odd, though; somehow his fear had lessened a moment ago. Makiko mentally reviewed her words, wondering what she could possibly have said to cause that, but couldn't think of anything. It only made her somewhat more wary, though, as well as mildly intrigued. She didn't feel that she had anything to fear from this one, of course - she was certainly a match for him physically, and in a place like this, with a file such as he had, anything he said about her would be easily dismissed as the ravings of a delusional lunatic.

[theroadsofar]

The question he was thinking over was what was she, if not human. His first bet was demon, seeing as how Yellow-Eyes was on the prowl and he usually had some of his black-eyed friends with him. If she was a demon, she was surprisingly self-controlled though - all the ones he'd met were hell-bent on death and destruction and not sitting around just talking. He knew they were lying bastards too, smart, but if she was tryin' to get under his skin, she was going through a roundabout way to get to the damn point. Even that Crossroads Bitch didn't take this long; she'd come at him with her claws out from the get-go and started talking about Sammy's body like it was just a slab of meat - he'd been two seconds away from exorcising that smug smile off her skanky face, but then he'd thought about what it would be like to keep living without his brother. He'd folded a lot faster there than here.

Still, if Kisugi was a demon, he'd have to make sure. It wasn't like he had holy water on him, which meant he had to improvise. Dean reached out and helped himself to a notepad from the desk, leaning back to use his knee to prop it up as he scrawled something out on the paper.

"I just don't see how this truth is supposed to help things," Dean didn't look up, writing on the notepad with one of the stolen pencils. "So I stabbed myself in the chest. How do you know that's not givin' me ideas now?"

Apparently unhappy with what he wrote, Dean tore off the first sheet, crumpled it, and carelessly tossed it over his shoulder. It missed the wastebasket entirely. He went through a few more pages before he'd written it exactly to his satisfaction. Looking it over, he clicked his tongue against his teeth, and suddenly held out the notepad to Doctor Kisugi. There was only one word on the paper, despite all his writing. Dean flashed his most charming smile at Kisugi, the kind he usually reserved for the chicks he knew were more than willing to put out and not to ice queens who might be a hunt in herself.

"Hey, do me a favor, will you? I think I just remembered the name of my mom's old dog, but my memory's fuzzy on how the name's pronounced. He used to mean a lot to my brother and I. We practically grew up with him."

[damned_doctors]

The nameplate was safe, but apparently her notepad was not. Makiko was starting to wonder if the man was determined to rearrange her entire office before leaving (though if so he'd be sorely disappointed, as she had no intention of letting him). She twitched slightly as he grabbed the pad, halfway tempted to stop him but restraining the impulse for now.

Fine. Let him write whatever he wanted, if it kept him amused. Even if another part of his amusement involved dropping crumpled pieces of paper on the floor. She frowned slightly, keeping her sigh purely internal, and added a few more notes to the file while he scribbled.

When he handed the notepad back to her she arched one brow slightly as she took it, partially in curiosity at what he could possibly want, partially in somewhat dubious reaction to the sudden attempt at being charming. The man clearly had no idea of who he was dealing with here.

As she glanced at the word he'd written on the paper, though, the other brow rose to join the first. "'Christo'? That's a rather unusual name for a dog," she observed, glancing back up at him again as she slid the notepad into her desk drawer. "Though if you grew up with him, I have to wonder how you could have forgotten its name. There must be some rather fascinating gaps in your memory."