Psych 101 - Chapter 2
When Melanie gave Wayne her business card on that terrible night eight months ago she never imagined what the outcome would be.
Honestly Melanie didn’t think anything would happen. That while Wayne had taken the card Melanie was pretty sure he’d never use it.
She never expected to get an entirely new client list out of it.
The first hunter showed up two months later, loitering outside her office building, waiting for Melanie to leave for the night. It was dark, her receptionist had already done home and Melanie’s car was the last in the parking lot.
She’d become more careful since her encounter with the werewolf, carrying pepper spray and a pure silver letter opener just in case. Neither seemed useful when the hunter came out of the shadows, scaring her enough to scream.
“Dr. Sharma?”
Melanie fumbles with her keys, trying to get the pepper spray, pointing it at the stranger. He raised his hands, trying to appear non-threatening.
“What do you want? Who are you?”
“Wayne gave me your information. Said I could talk to you if I needed to.”
“Are you…you’re a hunter?” He looked like Wayne, dressed in flannel and fatigues, hair dirty and face unshaven.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. Okay.” Melanie lowers the pepper spray, taking a few deep breaths to get her heart to stop racing. She can do this. This is what she does.
“You better come inside.” She leads him inside, back to her office. He takes a few minutes, walking around, checking the place out. It’s a basic therapy office, Melanie’s desk in front of the large bay windows, comfortable chairs, a couch, bookshelves full of her manuals and some decorative nick-knacks; nothing too cluttered or distracting, nothing to take a patients attention away from the session.
Melanie grabs one of her legal pads and sits in her favorite overstuffed chair, waiting for the hunter wandering her office. In the light of her office Melanie can see he looks fairly more put together than Wayne did, clothes newer, cleaner; his hands less callused, his face less lined and warn. The years don’t hang heavy on his shoulders like they did with Wayne.
Finally he sits, hunched over, hands clasped between his knees.
“I’m fairly new to all this. Only been hunting for two, three years now and I guess, I guess I’m having trouble adjusting. I was a day trader for fucks sake. But there was this ghost…”
And that’s how it started, with Carl, sitting in her office in the dead of night, telling her about the ghost of a murdered girl haunting his new apartment, terrorizing him and then finally trying to kill him and his boyfriend.
After Carl came Abby who’d been possessed by a demon and left conscious for the duration, through all the sex and murder and destruction. (“The sex was the worst. It was like being raped. Over and over again. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. I couldn’t even say no.”)
Mitch showed up after Abby, newly released from the hospital after a run in with a poltergeist that decided to throw him out of a third story window, his leg freshly cast, clumsy on his crutches, telling her of a vengeful witch unable to accept the end of their affair and his wife suffering the consequences. (“There were those fake acrylic nails in her stomach...ripped it to shreds. I haven’t seen my daughter since leaving her with Sarah’s parents. I can’t look at her anymore.”)
The hunters’ visits were always random, always arriving after hours, always hidden away so no one but Melanie sees them. All of them with horror stories unlike any Melanie’s heard before. All of them deeply damaged. All of them suffering from severe PTSD.
Some of them stay a few days, doing their best to work through their guilt or anger or sorrow or depression or all of the above. Some stay for a night, powering through the session. Sometimes they just need to talk, just need Melanie to listen, pretend she doesn’t notice their tears, ignore when they break down and sob.
They never pay her and Melanie never considered asking but sometimes they leave her trinkets, little charms or protection symbols carved into her door jam or window sill, small religious figures hidden behind her books or tucked into drawers.
The first time one of the hunters cried himself to sleep Melanie stayed in her office the entire night, falling asleep in her chair, waking with a crick in her neck and her office empty, as if the hunter had never been there.
After that she leaves a pillow and blanket in a basket next to the couch, often draping the blanket over the sleeping hunter herself. Those that stay are always gone in the morning, leaving no trace of their presence.
It’s always the ones who break down the most who leave the quickest. Too often she never sees them again. But every now and then they’ll show up again, months later, acting as if they hadn’t disappeared into the night after she’d left them sleeping on her couch.
She buys a special lock-box for the very limited files she makes for each hunter, acutely aware of their secrecy and paranoia. Respecting their privacy and their fierce belief that the world they exist in should remain in the shadows. Not that anyone would believe her if they read her notes. There’s a good chance she’d get committed herself.
The sessions she takes with the hunters turn out to be more difficult than any she’s ever experienced. More so than when she was a student in her first residency, unseasoned and scared out of her mind. They leave her drained and depressed, their stories and emotions clinging to her in a way her usual patients don’t. Maybe it’s because she has an experience of her own - though nowhere near as damaging as theirs - that makes it more difficult to shake off. But for all that it’s also the most rewarding work she’s ever done. Melanie has no idea if they’re actually healing - or if they can be healed - but she knows she’s helping, giving them something they desperately need.
And sometimes she wonders if they’re changing her life more than she’s changing theirs.
XXXX
The first time Melanie meets the Winchesters she’s getting ready for her final session of the day - a new couple seeking counseling. She’s looking forward to a night with just her TV and a bottle of wine. Nights off are rare these days and she relishes them. There shouldn’t be anyone dropping by after hours, there’d been nothing suspicious in the paper the last few days so unless a hunter showed up specifically to see her, Melanie has a free evening.
But first she has to get through this last session.
Melanie knows they’re hunters the moment her receptionist Rachel brings them into the office. The flannel gives them away. It’s a bit of a shock, none of the other hunters have ever bothered to give her a heads up that they were coming in let alone make an appointment and she definitely hadn’t been expecting the couple on her schedule to both be men.
They’re both tall, one of them ridiculously so, and both incredibly good looking. The taller one walks right up to her, a dimpled smile on his face, hand extended in greeting. Her hand gets lost in his, the calluses rough against her palm. “Dr. Sharma, Sam Winchester. Nice to meet you.”
He nods his head towards the other man. “That’s my brother Dean. We heard that you were…familiar with out unique job description.”
He’s smiling at her, all nice and friendly, dimples and hazel eyes, long curly hair, hands stuffed in pockets, back hunched, trying to disguise his height and Melanie can’t imagine him as a hunter. He looks so…nice. Safe. She can’t really imagine him killing things.
“I’m flattered. Please, have a seat.” Melanie sits in her favorite chair, notepad resting on her lap while Sam settles on the couch across from her. His brother - and that settles any questions Melanie had about the exact nature of “the Winchesters” relationship - wanders around Melanie’s office eyes taking in everything, not missing a single protective ruin or blessed icon. He stops by the windows, running his hand along the bottom sill.
“Taped salt line.” It’s a statement not a question but Melanie knows he expects an explanation.
“Another patient showed me that trick.” Said patient had insisted on doing it himself before he’d let the session began, overly protective (Melanie would say paranoid) after so many years hunting ghosts.
Dean runs his finger along the tape, takes one more look around the room before nodding his head and settling next to Sam on the couch. Of the two it’s obvious this was not Dean’s idea, that he rather be anywhere but here.
But he came anyway.
Melanie gives everyone a minute to get comfortable before she starts. “Alright, I want you to know that everything said in this room is confidential unless I am obliged by law to comply. And even then, there’s…certain loophole, especially given the nature of your work.”
She looks at each of them, waiting for some acknowledgement that they understand. Sam nods immediately and Dean, after glancing at Sam, nods as well.
“Good. So, what brings you here?” Melanie waits. And waits. And waits some more. Neither man seems willing to speak; neither man will look at her or at each other.
Finally Sam breaks, his voice so quiet she can barely hear him. “I uh, I did something bad...”
Dean snorts at that but still refuses to look at her or Sam, keeping his gaze focused on the far wall, body tight, knuckles clenched. It’s clear he has absolutely no desire to be here.
Sam pauses for a moment at his brother’s small interruption, looking down, ashamed. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he starts again, “something unforgivable.”
“Unforgivable. That seems pretty extreme. Dean, do you agree with Sam’s assessment of his actions?” Melanie tries to bring Dean into the conversation. He doesn’t respond.
“It’s why we’re here. I betrayed a lot of people over the last year but…I betrayed Dean most of all. He doesn’t trust me anymore and he can’t forgive me. And I don’t blame him.” Sam sounds devastated, on the verge of tears. “It’s just…we can’t work together, we can’t hunt…he can barely stand to look at me.”
It’s such an extreme statement Melanie finds it difficult to believe it’s a faithful description of what’s going on. She hates words like ‘unforgivable’ and ‘never’, definitive words that back people into a corner and leave little room for her to work with the problem. Especially if both parties feel that way.
“Is that true Dean? Do you find yourself unable to forgive what Sam believes to be his betrayal of you?” If Melanie is going to have any hope of helping Sam and Dean she needs Dean to participate, to give her some kind of feedback. It’s obvious he’s paying attention, his head unconsciously tilting towards Sam whenever Sam speaks. But Dean continues to pretend he’s ignoring them.
Already Melanie knows that the Winchesters are going to be a challenge.
“Okay. Sam. Would you mind sharing what you did that you feel is so unforgivable?”
Sam shifts, straightens, rubs his hands, obviously nervous. “Uh sure…it’s uh, it’s a really long story but…I trusted someone I shouldn’t have, a demon, Ruby. And she convinced me to use my, uh, my powers…I can exercise demons with my mind and I used to have visions.”
He gives her a small shy smile, as if he’s apologizing for telling her something that seems so crazy. A few months ago if someone had come into her office talking about the supernatural she’d have diagnosed them as paranoid schizophrenic and referred them to a hospital. Now she just jots it down on her legal pad, noting Dean’s teeth grinding, fist clenching reaction to the mention of Ruby and Sam’s powers, and turns her attention back to Sam.
“Anyway, I promised Dean I would never use them and I lied to him about it, for a long time. I thought…I though I was doing something good. I thought I was getting strong so I could stop Lilith from raising the Devil. Dean begged me to stop. He thought Ruby was lying to me and that I was going down a dangerous path. I sided with Ruby over Dean, went after Lilith and…when I killed her it freed Lucifer from Hell and started the Apocalypse.”
Melanie can’t help a small flinch at Sam’s final declaration. Sam sees it and gives her the most self-deprecating smirk she’s ever seen.
“Starting the Apocalypse. That’s pretty unforgivable wouldn’t you say Doctor?”
There are tears in his hazel eyes and he sounds devastated, looks it too, curled in on himself, arms tucked between his knees, trying to make himself as small and harmless as possible the longer he talks.
Melanie takes a deep breath, forces her own thoughts down, now is not the time for her to have a tiny freak out the start of the Apocalypse.
“I’m sure it’s more complicated than what you’ve described Sam. But I’d love to hear what you have to say Dean. You’ve been quiet this whole time. Do you have anything to add to what Sam said? Any corrections or clarifications? Anything?”
Dean hasn’t said a word since he mentioned the salt at her window, hasn’t looked at her or Sam, trying to disengage himself from what’s happening. But Melanie’s been watching him and while he may not realize it his body language has done plenty of speaking for him. Now if only she can get him to actually articulate the thoughts he’s having listening to his brother.
Finally Dean looks at her, his shockingly green eyes boring into her, incredulous, as if he can’t believe she asked him that. As if talking about anything personal isn’t something he’s willing to do. They stare at each other for a few moments before Dean jumps out of his seat.
“Jesus Christ!” He storms out of the office leaving Melanie and Sam behind without a backwards glance.
“Dean!” Sam jumps up, calling after his brother but it’s no use, Dean’s gone. He hangs his head, haggard and disappointed, his shaggy hair hiding his face. Glancing over at her Melanie can see the tears in his eyes. “Sorry.”
And then he follows his brother out the door, the weight of the world resting on his shoulders.
She can’t say she’s surprised by Dean’s reaction. He was closed off from the moment he walked in the room, clearly dragged here by Sam. But Melanie can’t help feeling disappointed. It’s so obvious their relationship is suffering and that they’re both hurting because of it and Melanie just can’t envision a way for them to repair it without help. Help that she can and wants to give.
Melanie sighs, gets out of her chair. It’s late and she’s tired but she forces herself to write a few notes, make a file for the Winchesters despite their abrupt departure. There’s always a slim chance they’ll be back even if Melanie can’t help feeling that she’ll never see them again.
Chapter 3