Folie a Deux - 2/2
They don’t manage to talk to Liz until it’s almost time for Light’s Out. She’s sitting by herself in the TV lounge and eyes them warily as they approach her. Her eyes dart over the to the nurse’s station and then back to them and Sam realizes how it must look to her; two unknown men approaching her, intent expressions on their faces. He puts his best ‘sympathetic’ face on and he and Dean pull up two chairs next to her.
“Lay a fucking hand on me, and I’ll scream,” she says loudly, a fine tremble discernible in her voice.
Sam raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, we’re just here to talk. That’s it.”
Her eyes shift to the nurses station and she catches the eyes of one of nurses who smiles at her. Sam looks over his shoulder and tosses a wave at the nurse, Nan, before turning back to Liz. Liz’s eyes go back and forth between Sam and Dean.
“We’re not gonna hurt you,” Sam says.
Her eyes flick to Dean.
“We just wanna talk,” replies Dean easily.
Sam eyeballs him for a moment. It’s been rough with Dean taking the meds and getting his head flipped around and while Dean agreed to be here tonight, to talk to Liz, he still insists Sam call him Jensen. It’s been a fine line to walk - staying focused on getting Dean to remember who he is, who they are together, without alienating him and pushing him away. It’s a relief to see Dean, elbows on his knees, face intent and thoughtful as he stares at Liz. His hunting face.
He’d been afraid he wouldn’t see it again.
Liz crosses her arms over her chest and hunches in on herself. “What do you want?”
“We want to talk to you about what you said. At group today,” says Sam. “About your boyfriend.”
“Is this some kind of weird ‘haze the new girl’ thing, because I’ll pass, thanks.”
“We believe you,” Sam says earnestly, eyes focused on her. “About your boyfriend being a werewolf. We believe you.”
“Yeah,” she says dryly. “Well, forgive me if I don’t get up and do a dance. I mean, we’re all sitting here in the nut house.”
“We’re not crazy,” Sam says quickly.
Again her eyes flick back and forth between the two of them. “Yeah. Whatever.”
“What did you see?” asks Dean. “In that room. What did you see?”
She stiffens. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“You can tell us,” Sam says lowly. “It’s okay.”
She stands up suddenly. “Look, I’m not interested in making friends here or whatever.” She starts to walk away when Dean’s voice stops her.
“Where did you shoot him?”
She turns back around. “Pardon me?” she asks incredulously.
“Your boyfriend. Did you shoot him in the heart?”
She flinches. “I don’t know. I shot… it was… in the chest,” she answers shakily. Her face has gone ashen, her fingers twitching even as her arms remain crossed over her chest.
“What did you use? Did you have silver bullets?” Dean prods.
“What?” She shakes her head. “No, I… where would I get those?”
“If you didn’t shoot him in the heart with silver, he’s not dead.”
She’s shaking her head at them, backing away slowly. Sam stands and starts to go after her.
“We can help you. Just tell us what happened. Where are you from?”
“No… I… there was blood. There was a lot of blood. And he… he looked at me,” she stumbles a bit as she walks backward, catching her balance. Her lips are trembling. “He… he stopped breathing and I… I stood there and there was so much blood…”
“But you didn’t use silver, did you?” asks Sam, trying his best to look safe and sympathetic. “If you didn’t get the heart with silver, he’s not dead. You need to tell us everything so we can help you.”
She wordlessly shakes her head and then turns and flees towards the women’s ward. Sam makes a motion to go after her but Nan steps in front of him, hand on his chest.
“Honey you know you’re not allowed down there,” she says in her slow Texan drawl.
“Yeah, but-”
She gives him a gentle shove. “You can talk to Liz tomorrow, after your session. You know the rules.”
Sam’s arms fall by his side in defeat and he huffs.
Nan turns him around and gives him a pat on the back. “Now shoo.”
Sam sits back down next to Dean and gives him an appraising look.
“That went well,” Dean says lowly, his voice taking on some of Nan’s drawl.
“We gotta find out where she’s from. What her last name is, what her boyfriend’s name is… something to help us track him down.”
Dean’s face goes thoughtful for a moment and he opens his mouth like he’s going to speak but then shuts it quickly.
“What?” Sam asks. He knows Dean’s not 100% right now, but something’s better than nothing.
“We could… I mean, this places has got records, right? We could try and find hers.”
Sam nods. “Yeah. Shouldn’t be too hard to bust out of our rooms.” He scoots his chair closer to Dean and they start planning.
***
He has no idea what he’s doing.
Yesterday he was taking his meds, talking with Dr. Reid and it all made perfect sense.
He wasn’t some kind of strange supernatural bounty killer. He was just Jensen. A guy with a couple of screws loose on his way to getting them tightened back up.
And now he’s creeping through the corridors with Sam - Jared - whatever his name is - on his way to try and bust into patient records.
It feels like a crazy thing to do. It feels scary and strange. He’s not sure what he’ll do next, what they’ll do next.
Getting out of their rooms wasn’t particularly hard. The night security has a schedule. All you have to do is wait for the break in the walkabouts, and you can wander where you like.
The trick will be getting back before next check in. Jared told him to fluff up some pillows and towels and make it look like there was a body still in the bed, on the off chance they don’t make it back and Jensen did that. He’s just not sure it will pass a close inspection. In fact, he’s kinda sure it won’t.
If this really is his life, shouldn’t he be better at it? Shouldn’t he not feel nervous because he does this all the time? Shouldn’t it be second nature?
Jared - Sam - says it’s the drugs. He says that if he stops taking them, things will clear up, settle themselves out.
Dr. Reid says the same things will happen if he continues to take the meds. His memory will clear, he’ll find it easier to tell reality from delusion. He shakes his head. He can’t think about it right now. He spies Jared crouching behind the secondary nurses station and makes his way over. It’s empty. During the night shift only the main station is staffed, leaving the second one barren - a good place to meet up.
Jared nods in acknowledgment of his arrival and Jensen hunkers down next to him.
“Wasn’t sure you’d make it,” Jared whispers lowly.
“Well, in for a penny…”
Jared gives a quick grin and claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
They crouch-walk down the hall, staying low, although Jensen’s not sure why. There are no cameras in the hallways and the large reflective dishes at the corners give them ample warning if someone starts heading toward them. They’re nearly at patient records when they hear voices. Jared holds up a hand to stop them and they creep closer down the darkly lit hall. They stop outside Dr. Reid’s private office. She doesn’t have sessions in there, it’s where she keeps her files, notes. An adjunct to her larger office where she has sessions, her private one just has a small desk and a few filing cabinets. Jensen’s seen the inside of it when she slides open the adjoining door to enter into session. He catches the tail end of Dr. Reid’s sentence.
“… can’t believe you introduced that patient. She should have gone into an entirely different group.”
“Look, Hil, if you’re doing your job, it shouldn’t matter.”
Zig, Jensen thinks. His voice has taken on an almost smarmy tone. He doesn’t see Drs. Reid and Zagarodniuk interact much. He kind of gets the impression they don’t get along.
“Jesus, I can’t believe he lets you stay. This isn’t a pissing contest, Mike. You know what we’re dealing with here and you brought in a girl who says her boyfriend was a werewolf.”
Jensen catches Jared’s eye. They stare unblinkingly at each other while they listen to the argument.
“As I said, if you’re doing your job, it shouldn’t matter.”
“I’m making progress with them.”
“Bullshit. You should have seen their faces light up when she started talking.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Dr. Reid exclaimed. “You’ve completely undone any ground I’ve gained.”
“Gain it back,” comes the dry, uninterested response from Zig. “If you can’t, then maybe it needs to be turned over to someone else.”
An exasperated, choked off sound comes from Dr. Reid. “Get out of my office, Mike. Fuck with my work again, and I’ll have you removed. Permanently.”
There’s the sound of fabric rustling and Jensen’s heart thumps in his ears as they hurriedly creep back the way they came toward the nurse’s station. Crouching behind the desk, they hear Zig trundle down the hallway, muttering to himself. Jensen tucks himself under the desk and Jared slides in close beside him. Jensen can feel the warmth coming off Jared’s body and even though he knows it’s completely inappropriate and it’s neither the time nor the place for it, the adrenaline charging through his system makes his heart pound faster and he leans into Jared’s neck and breathes in deeply through his nose.
Jared twitches lightly beside him, his hand coming up to cup the back of Jensen’s neck, hot and solid. Jared buries his nose in the top of Jensen’s head, inhaling the scent there too. Jensen gets that same thrill of wrong that hit him in the supply closet but it only makes his heart beat faster. Trailing in its wake is the added pulse that they could be caught, tucked in under the desk as they are.
Jared shifts, stretching his legs out underneath the desk and Jensen turns and slides so that he’s cradled between Jared’s thighs, their pelvis tucked together. Jared’s leaning back against the wall at an awkward angle; there’s not nearly enough space under the desk for him. He pulls Jensen onto him, tipping Jensen’s head back so he can catch his lips in a kiss.
Jensen feels the press of Jared’s hot tongue against the seam of his lips, licking at the entrance. When he finally parts his lips, Jared’s tongue slips in immediately, mapping the inside of his mouth. It’s cramped and uncomfortable, and he starts rutting against Jared’s leg, sliding his hand underneath the stiff, industrial cotton of Jared’s shirt. He traces the lines of Jared’s chest, loving the feeling of soft skin stretched over tight muscles. Jared slithers one of his big hands into the back of Jensen’s pants, pushing past the waistband and gripping his ass tightly, pressing them closer together.
Jensen tilts his head to get a better angle at Jared’s mouth, his tongue darting out quickly against Jared’s before he pulls back slightly to mouth at Jared’s jaw. The stubble is sharp against his tongue, making a rasping sound as he nips at it. Jensen tries to move up onto his knees, shifting to get a hand down Jared’s pants and he cracks his elbow hard against the underside of the desk, the resulting thwack echoing around them, making them pause. Lips millimeters apart, panting into each other’s mouths while they wait for any sign that they’ve been heard. Jensen’s on all fours, his head turned slightly to the side to listen. Jared’s tongue sneaks out and darts into his ear, wet and slippery and Jensen nearly giggles at the ridiculousness of it. He turns his head to find Jared’s eyes gleaming with mischief at him. He slides his hand into Jared’s pants and the mischief fades replaced by lust as Jensen wraps his fist around Jared’s cock and starts stroking. Jared gets his own hand down Jensen’s pants and they jerk each other off slowly, matching strokes, trading squeezes, staring at each other, trapped under the desk.
It’s quiet and cramped and slow until Jared comes suddenly, without warning, hot and sticky into Jensen’s fist. The smell of it, of them and the look on Jared’s face pushes Jensen over the edge and he turns his face into Jared’s neck and comes, breathing in the salty male scent of Jared.
He drifts drowsily, he’s not sure for how long, but when he focuses again, he’s sprawled in Jared’s lap, Jared carding fingers through his hair.
“That better be your clean hand, bitch.”
Jared’s laughter is low and rumbly and Jensen can feel it through his chest.
“Jerk.”
***
Waiting for his private session to start, Jensen’s fucking confused.
If he’s Jensen, then he’s really messed up. He’s created this whole other life for himself, a life that includes monsters, angels, demons and hunting. A life where he’s a killer and fucking his own brother. How much must he want to escape his own life if Dean’s life is preferable?
But if he’s not Jensen, if he’s Dean, he’s even more messed up. His whole life is spent dealing with monsters, angels, demons and hunting. He’s a killer and he’s fucking his own brother.
At least if he’s Jensen, then he and Jared aren’t related and the fucking each other thing isn’t so bad.
It makes him feel sick with guilt when he thinks of them as brothers.
But it makes him feel sick with something else when he thinks of them not being related.
He was feeling better on the meds. At least, he thought he was. He didn’t take them yesterday and he didn’t take them today and things are disjointed and twitchy. Like a strobe light playing in his brain, only letting his neurons engage for brief moments before shutting down again. Certain things do seem clearer now. Jared is clearer.
Not Jared. Sam.
And if Jared is Sam, that makes Jensen Dean.
But if they’re Sam and Dean, then they’re still fucked. Trapped in a mental institution with people trying to make them think they are Jensen and Jared.
Jesus his head hurts.
He looks up as Dr. Reid enters the room and she smiles warmly at him. He’s conflicted because he likes Dr. Reid. She makes sense. She’s kind and she listens. He feels better when she’s around and they can talk things through.
But is that part of the deception?
Or is it that she’s a good doctor?
“Jensen,” she says as she folds herself into the beanbag chair. “How are you feeling today?”
“Fine. Good.”
“How are you doing on the meds?”
“Um. Okay.” He waves his hand in a general kind of way and is horrified when he notices it shaking a bit.
She eyes him for a minute and he shifts his eyes away from her gaze. “All right,” she says finally. “Anything you want to talk about today?”
“Why don’t you separate us? Me and Sam, I mean, Jared.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them and he’s horrified that he blurted it out like that.
She nods sagely. “It’s a good question.” She pauses and it seems like she’s gathering her thoughts. “I’ll be honest with you, Jensen, it’s been a tough decision. You and Jared have a shared delusion and you can both be debilitating to the other’s recovery. But you could also both be instrumental as well. If I can lead one of you out of the delusion, the other may follow. Conversely, if one of you choses to remain firmly entrenched in the delusion, he can bring the other back down repeatedly.
“It’s something I’ve struggled with and I’ve sought advice from other colleagues about it. In the end, I thought it would detrimental to your emotional stability to separate the two of you. I think that separating you would increase your paranoia. Your worry and distress over where he was and what was happening to him could stall your recovery. I think you’ve noticed over the past few days that while you have been responding to treatment, Jared has not. It’s my hope that you, being the stronger of the two, can be the leader and pull him up to your recovery level. At the same time, his reluctance to leave the delusion is a sort of proving ground for you. When you leave Lofty Pines, there will be times in your life, situations that are difficult or stressful and you may find yourself starting to slip. But knowing you were able to maintain your reality under the most trying circumstances here at Lofty Pines will give you the confidence to continue on after you’ve left.”
Jesus, it makes so much sense when she talks. It’s calm and concise. There are no beasts under the bed, no prophecies nor omens. They way she talks about him being the stronger of the two, the leader, resonates with him. He could be the one that gets them out of this.
“Jensen,” she says. “I feel like we’re at a crossroads here. I real turning point in your recovery and there are some… truths that you need to face. I think we can do that together.”
He’s nervous, stomach fluttering and feeling a little sick and he’s not sure why. “Okay,” he says, voice wavering slightly. “Like what?”
“I want to talk about the stressor in your life that led to your psychotic break. The event that brought you here, to Lofty Pines.”
He stills. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t… there’s nothing before I was here.” He rubs at his forehead.
“Nothing?” she says softly. She leans forward slightly. “You’re rubbing your forehead, why?”
He stops as soon as he realizes he’s doing it. “I don’t…”
“Jensen, when we were going through Dean Winchester’s history, you told me there had been a car accident. Do you remember?”
A cold sweat breaks out over his upper lip. He doesn’t like thinking about the accident. The accident leads to thoughts of being dead and reapers. Of Sam and Dad fighting. Of Dad making his deal, his deal for Dean, to keep Dean alive in exchange for himself.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I think it’s important,” she presses softly. “I think that Dean carries a lot of guilt over the death of his father, John.”
“Dean’s not real,” he says automatically. The room is swaying slightly. It must be withdrawal from the meds. He’s breathing faster, there’s not enough oxygen in the room.
“No, Dean’s not real. You made him up. Built him out of pieces of yourself. Made him things that you are and things you aren’t. Made him do things you don’t want to do, things you can’t do. Gave him a life with no attachments to anyone, except his brother Sam. There’s no one else in Dean’s life, is there?”
He grips at his knees, knuckles white, fingers pushing into flesh. “Why are we talking about this?”
“Tell me about the accident, Jensen.”
Her voice is low, even. Hypnotic. He rubs at his forehead again and can almost feel a scar under his fingertips. The breaking of glass, the screech of metal on metal. The shrieking of a vehicle giving under pressure. And guilt. Jesus, the guilt. Like a sick, heavy weight, running down his esophagus and settling in his stomach, twisting and curling with thick fingers.
“There was an accident,” he breathes.
“Yes. There was.”
“I was in an accident.” His voice barely registers.
Breaking of glass, screech of metal on metal, and… then silence. And darkness. Nothingness. Except guilt. Horrible, viscous, slippery guilt sliding it’s way into his chest.
“I don’t remember.” He wants to get out, he has to get out, he can’t breath here, he can’t be here like this.
Dr. Reid is kneeling in front of him, her hands on his knees, careful yet firm. “Okay, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.” She rubs his knee soothingly, like a mother would and it feels warm and real.
“I don’t remember,” he repeats.
“Okay. That’s okay. We’ll talk about something else.”
He nods dumbly at her words, not really caring what she’s saying, only that she’s using her low, quiet voice, and she keeps rubbing his knee.
***
Sam steels himself for his session with Dr. Reid.
No matter what she says this time, he’s not going to lose his cool. His name is Sam, his brother is Dean, and she can’t twist it all around and make it something it’s not.
Sure, he’s fucked up. Isn’t everyone? He saw more neuroses and phobias at Stanford than he knew existed in the world. Everyone’s a little fucked up, in some way or another. And the people who can’t admit it to themselves are the sorry sons of bitches he feels for.
He knows that what he feels for Dean, what they feel for each other, isn’t healthy. God knows, he knows it. But their life was like this huge centrifuge, distilling and separating everything and everyone out until it was just the two of them. Only Dean knows the things he knows. Only Dean understands the things he’s seen, the things he’s done. Dean knows what it’s like to kill a demon knowing that you’re killing the human as well. Dean knows how hard it is to get blood out of clothes and how it never really comes off your hands. Dean was there the night Jess… god, he still can’t even talk about it. But he doesn’t have to, because Dean knows.
So yeah, what they feel for each other isn’t considered ‘normal’ by society, but that’s the same society that they save from the abnormal on a daily basis, so he can’t really fault them for thinking inside the box. He and Dean spend their whole lives making sure the populace can live safely inside their little box.
“Jared,” Dr. Reid says as she slides the door open from her smaller office.
“It’s Sam,” he says calmly.
Her eyes tighten slightly. “Sam,” she repeats. “I guess that means you’re still not taking your meds.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stares back at her as she settles down into the beanbag chair.
“Did you have a chance to think about what I said last time? Is Sam Winchester’s life a happy one?”
He gives her a somewhat feral smile. “Doesn’t matter if it is or not. It’s all I’ve got.”
She nods as if she’s thinking about it. “Well, I think we should do what we can to make Sam’s life better then.”
“Really,” Sam says, humoring her. “How?”
“If you believe you’re Sam, let’s explore Sam’s issues. You’re very intelligent. Went to Stanford, correct?”
He narrows his eyes. “Yeah, pre-law.”
“Intelligent, as I said. Surely you can see that you have issues to work through.”
“Like what?” he says, tensing. He won’t discuss Dean. Absolutely not.
“Let’s discuss your Madonna/Whore complex.”
“What?”
“Your mother, died tragically and in some ways has become the Madonna of your family. Perfect, pure. You recreate her in Jess, your girlfriend at Stanford. Blonde, beautiful - yet she too dies tragically. Sarah, who you can’t be with because of your lifestyle also fits this mold - unattainable, beautiful. Then Meg, a demon. You move on to Madison, who turns out to be a beast you have to kill. Ellen, your surrogate mother, dies along with Jo, a sort of sister, who also follows the blonde, beautiful and dead motif Then Ruby, another demon and Anna, an angel.” She raises an eyebrow at him and he shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. “You could not be more clear in your conflict than you are with those two sharing an… arc in your life, so to speak. Especially since Dean had an… encounter with Anna, while you were in a relationship with Ruby. Women in your life fall into two categories. Category one: beloved, at times cherished and predominately dead. Category two: monstrous, evil and in need of being controlled or killed.”
He huffs. “It’s not like that.”
“Really? Name one women in your life who isn’t unattainable, dead, demonized, or disposable.”
His brain stutters and he opens and closes his mouth.
“Don’t you find that odd? What is the probability of that happening consistently?”
He clenches his jaw. “Just because it’s unlikely doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
She considers his words. “No, you’re correct. It’s not impossible. But it certainly indicates a pattern.”
It hits him suddenly. The best defense is a good offense. “Yeah?” he counters. “So which are you?”
She squints slightly. “I’m sorry?”
“Since I’m Sam and you’re a woman in my life, you have to fall into one of the two categories. Either you’ll end up cherished and dead, or demonized… and dead.”
She leans back in her beanbag and crosses her arms, contemplating. “Touché.”
“Either way, it doesn’t look good for you.”
She levels him with a stare, her eyes flat and cool. “Sam, do we have to put you back in security?”
“You maintain I’m not Sam, so you should be safe.” This time it’s his turn to pause, let her think about his words. “But if you’re…” lying “wrong, and I am Sam…” he shrugs. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
“I suppose so.” She looks down at her notes again, her bobbed hair swaying slightly. “Tell me, what about your escape to Stanford and your desire for a normal life?”
He shrugs. “What about it?”
“Do you still feel that way at times? Like you want to leave your life of hunting?”
“No.”
“No? What changed?”
Jess, Dean, YED, Dad….. He shrugs. “I guess I just realized that this was something I needed to do.”
“What about your brother?”
He stiffens. “What about him?”
“If this is something you’re meant to do, that both of you are meant for, then how is it that he’s responded to treatment here?”
Sam shakes his head. “He hasn’t responded. It’s the drugs. You’ve got him drugged out of his mind. Without them, he knows who he is.”
“If that were true, why did he take the drugs in the first place?” Her face is open, eyes unblinking.
He hates her calm expression. Her perfect bob and her stupid flat shoes.
“What?” he asks.
She gestures with her hands while she talks. “If he’s completely in his right mind when he’s not taking the drugs, then why did he start taking the meds in the first place? We didn’t force them on him or you. In fact, even now, we don’t force your meds on you. We don’t inject you, we don’t pour pills down your throat. Taking your meds is your choice.”
Sam has no answer for that. He doesn’t know why Dean started taking the pills.
“Could it be because some part of him recognized he was ill and needed help? That he wanted out?”
Sam fists his hands. “No.”
“Why?”
“I know who I am, I know who we are. I’m Sam Winchester and he’s my brother.”
She nods thoughtfully, the silence stretching out between them.
“Well then, Sam,” she says. “How do you account for the incestuous relationship you have with your brother?”
He feels his stomach clench up and seize. “What?”
“Your relationship with Dean and its incestuous component. Let’s discuss that.”
“I’m not… We’re not…” he stammers out, chest rising and falling quickly.
“Sam,” she says, tilting her head toward him sympathetically. “This is a secured facility. There are cameras all over this building. There’s hardly a moment you’re really ever alone. For security purposes, we have to monitor the patients at all times.”
“But I’m not… he’s not…”
“He’s not what?”
“It’s not like that.”
She folds her hands, interlacing her fingers together. “It’s not like what?”
He can’t say the word. Incest. The word is wrong, bad. It doesn’t apply to how he feels about Dean, how they feel about each other. It can’t be wrong. They love each other.
They’re all they have.
He won’t use that word to describe it. That word is laden with connotations and implications. Wrong, terrible, dirty things and it’s not like that with him and Dean.
He shakes his head. “It’s not like that,” he repeats firmly.
“You tell me you’re Sam and he’s Dean, your brother. And the two of you are sexually involved.” She levels him with her soft gaze. “I’m afraid it’s very much like that.”
***
Jared doesn’t talk to him after his therapy session, which is somewhat new and different. Usually, Jared seeks him out, making dismissive statements about whatever he and Dr. Reid discussed and trying his best to disprove Jensen’s therapy as well. But today, Jared disappears after his session and heads to his room, leaving Jensen in the common room by himself watching the back of Jared as he walks down the hall.
Jensen’s still watching the hallway long after he’s gone until he becomes aware of a presence standing by his side. He looks up from the recliner he’s sunk into and finds Liz standing over him, biting at one of her cuticles and shifting on her feet. He gives her an expectant expression.
“Look, I’m not crazy,” she blurts without any preamble.
“Okay,” he shrugs.
Her eyes dart around like a heroine in a bad spy flick and then she slips her hand into her pocket and pulls out a piece of folded paper that she holds out to him.
He stares at it for a second and she rolls her eyes and shoves it at him. He takes it with deft fingers, unfolding it.
Trevor MacIlway, 42 Dowinigan Road
“What’s this?” he asks gesturing with the paper.
She’s back to chewing on her thumb cuticle and has to pull her finger out of her mouth long enough to answer.
“That’s him, my boyfriend. Well, I guess he’s my ex now. Even if he’s not really dead, we’re still broken up.”
Jensen gives her a look that clearly indicates he does think she’s crazy.
She makes a huffing sound and rolls her eyes again. “Can you do something about it or not? ‘Cause if he’s not dead… I mean, everyone knows where I am, right? And if someone shot me I’d be pissed and I’m not even… you know…” she makes a clawing motion with both her hands toward Jensen, mimicking a werewolf and he flinches slightly. “So, you and your… friend?”
“Brother,” he says without thinking.”
She blinks. “Oh.”
“What?”
She shrugs. “Nothing. Just weird, that’s all. Anyway, you and your brother, can you help me?”
Saving people, hunting things. The family business.
He stares down at the somewhat crumpled note, worrying the paper between his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Liz shifting on her feet, a slightly nervous jitter to her moves. He looks down the corridor where Jared’s room is and wishes he was here right now. He looks back up at Liz. Her expression is an amalgamation of emotions. Hope, nervousness, wariness, expectation and a touch of fear. He opens his mouth to tell her no, he can’t help her, they can’t help her. She’s on her own.
He finds he can’t bear to say the words.
“Yeah. We can help.”
Her shoulders, formerly hunched up around her ears, sag in relief and she lets out a long breath.
“Okay,” she breathes and then nods to herself. “Uh, thanks.”
With a last, furtive glance around, she shuffles away from him, the soles of her slippers making a swish-thwock sound on the linoleum as she goes. Jensen pushes himself out of his chair and moves as nonchalantly as he can out of the common room and heads toward Jared’s room.
Sam’s room.
His step has a hitch mid-stride as he considers that. If he’s going to do this, if they’re going to do this, then he’s no longer Jared, he’s Sam.
And Jensen is Dean.
He pauses when he reaches the outside of Sam’s door, hand poised and ready to knock. He’s not sure why he’s nervous.
He raps his knuckles down three times.
“Yeah?”
He pushes his way into the room, holding up the piece of paper from Liz. Sam frowns as he sees it.
“Liz gave us the contact information on her boyfriend.”
He sees realization dawn across Sam’s face. It makes him smile.
“What say, we bust out of this joint and hunt some monsters, Sam?”
***
He knew who was knocking at his door before it opened and he saw him there.
Dean.
Jensen.
He’s not sure what to call him.
He holds up a piece of paper and waves it around a bit, and the gesture is so cocksure and slick that it makes Sam’s heart thump.
“Liz gave us the contact information on her boyfriend.”
Sam’s chest tightens and then releases. He sees the look in Dean’s eyes. Dean. Slightly flirty, confident and a little dangerous. They can leave here, escape.
Together.
They can do anything, fight anything, believe anything as long as they’re together.
“What say, we bust out of this joint and kill some monsters, Sam?”
Sam.
Sam stands up and steps toward Dean, standing close, in his space. He clasps Dean on the arms, fingers pressing into the flesh.
“I’m Sam, and you’re Dean.”
Dean grins at him. “Yeah, Sammy. ‘Course we are.”
He can hear the fine hesitation in Dean’s voice. The slight tremor. He’s not sure. Not 100%.
Then again, neither is Sam.
Sam takes a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go kill some monsters.”
“Lay a fucking hand on me, and I’ll scream,” she says loudly, a fine tremble discernible in her voice.
Sam raises his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, we’re just here to talk. That’s it.”
Her eyes shift to the nurses station and she catches the eyes of one of nurses who smiles at her. Sam looks over his shoulder and tosses a wave at the nurse, Nan, before turning back to Liz. Liz’s eyes go back and forth between Sam and Dean.
“We’re not gonna hurt you,” Sam says.
Her eyes flick to Dean.
“We just wanna talk,” replies Dean easily.
Sam eyeballs him for a moment. It’s been rough with Dean taking the meds and getting his head flipped around and while Dean agreed to be here tonight, to talk to Liz, he still insists Sam call him Jensen. It’s been a fine line to walk - staying focused on getting Dean to remember who he is, who they are together, without alienating him and pushing him away. It’s a relief to see Dean, elbows on his knees, face intent and thoughtful as he stares at Liz. His hunting face.
He’d been afraid he wouldn’t see it again.
Liz crosses her arms over her chest and hunches in on herself. “What do you want?”
“We want to talk to you about what you said. At group today,” says Sam. “About your boyfriend.”
“Is this some kind of weird ‘haze the new girl’ thing, because I’ll pass, thanks.”
“We believe you,” Sam says earnestly, eyes focused on her. “About your boyfriend being a werewolf. We believe you.”
“Yeah,” she says dryly. “Well, forgive me if I don’t get up and do a dance. I mean, we’re all sitting here in the nut house.”
“We’re not crazy,” Sam says quickly.
Again her eyes flick back and forth between the two of them. “Yeah. Whatever.”
“What did you see?” asks Dean. “In that room. What did you see?”
She stiffens. “I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”
“You can tell us,” Sam says lowly. “It’s okay.”
She stands up suddenly. “Look, I’m not interested in making friends here or whatever.” She starts to walk away when Dean’s voice stops her.
“Where did you shoot him?”
She turns back around. “Pardon me?” she asks incredulously.
“Your boyfriend. Did you shoot him in the heart?”
She flinches. “I don’t know. I shot… it was… in the chest,” she answers shakily. Her face has gone ashen, her fingers twitching even as her arms remain crossed over her chest.
“What did you use? Did you have silver bullets?” Dean prods.
“What?” She shakes her head. “No, I… where would I get those?”
“If you didn’t shoot him in the heart with silver, he’s not dead.”
She’s shaking her head at them, backing away slowly. Sam stands and starts to go after her.
“We can help you. Just tell us what happened. Where are you from?”
“No… I… there was blood. There was a lot of blood. And he… he looked at me,” she stumbles a bit as she walks backward, catching her balance. Her lips are trembling. “He… he stopped breathing and I… I stood there and there was so much blood…”
“But you didn’t use silver, did you?” asks Sam, trying his best to look safe and sympathetic. “If you didn’t get the heart with silver, he’s not dead. You need to tell us everything so we can help you.”
She wordlessly shakes her head and then turns and flees towards the women’s ward. Sam makes a motion to go after her but Nan steps in front of him, hand on his chest.
“Honey you know you’re not allowed down there,” she says in her slow Texan drawl.
“Yeah, but-”
She gives him a gentle shove. “You can talk to Liz tomorrow, after your session. You know the rules.”
Sam’s arms fall by his side in defeat and he huffs.
Nan turns him around and gives him a pat on the back. “Now shoo.”
Sam sits back down next to Dean and gives him an appraising look.
“That went well,” Dean says lowly, his voice taking on some of Nan’s drawl.
“We gotta find out where she’s from. What her last name is, what her boyfriend’s name is… something to help us track him down.”
Dean’s face goes thoughtful for a moment and he opens his mouth like he’s going to speak but then shuts it quickly.
“What?” Sam asks. He knows Dean’s not 100% right now, but something’s better than nothing.
“We could… I mean, this places has got records, right? We could try and find hers.”
Sam nods. “Yeah. Shouldn’t be too hard to bust out of our rooms.” He scoots his chair closer to Dean and they start planning.
***
He has no idea what he’s doing.
Yesterday he was taking his meds, talking with Dr. Reid and it all made perfect sense.
He wasn’t some kind of strange supernatural bounty killer. He was just Jensen. A guy with a couple of screws loose on his way to getting them tightened back up.
And now he’s creeping through the corridors with Sam - Jared - whatever his name is - on his way to try and bust into patient records.
It feels like a crazy thing to do. It feels scary and strange. He’s not sure what he’ll do next, what they’ll do next.
Getting out of their rooms wasn’t particularly hard. The night security has a schedule. All you have to do is wait for the break in the walkabouts, and you can wander where you like.
The trick will be getting back before next check in. Jared told him to fluff up some pillows and towels and make it look like there was a body still in the bed, on the off chance they don’t make it back and Jensen did that. He’s just not sure it will pass a close inspection. In fact, he’s kinda sure it won’t.
If this really is his life, shouldn’t he be better at it? Shouldn’t he not feel nervous because he does this all the time? Shouldn’t it be second nature?
Jared - Sam - says it’s the drugs. He says that if he stops taking them, things will clear up, settle themselves out.
Dr. Reid says the same things will happen if he continues to take the meds. His memory will clear, he’ll find it easier to tell reality from delusion. He shakes his head. He can’t think about it right now. He spies Jared crouching behind the secondary nurses station and makes his way over. It’s empty. During the night shift only the main station is staffed, leaving the second one barren - a good place to meet up.
Jared nods in acknowledgment of his arrival and Jensen hunkers down next to him.
“Wasn’t sure you’d make it,” Jared whispers lowly.
“Well, in for a penny…”
Jared gives a quick grin and claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
They crouch-walk down the hall, staying low, although Jensen’s not sure why. There are no cameras in the hallways and the large reflective dishes at the corners give them ample warning if someone starts heading toward them. They’re nearly at patient records when they hear voices. Jared holds up a hand to stop them and they creep closer down the darkly lit hall. They stop outside Dr. Reid’s private office. She doesn’t have sessions in there, it’s where she keeps her files, notes. An adjunct to her larger office where she has sessions, her private one just has a small desk and a few filing cabinets. Jensen’s seen the inside of it when she slides open the adjoining door to enter into session. He catches the tail end of Dr. Reid’s sentence.
“… can’t believe you introduced that patient. She should have gone into an entirely different group.”
“Look, Hil, if you’re doing your job, it shouldn’t matter.”
Zig, Jensen thinks. His voice has taken on an almost smarmy tone. He doesn’t see Drs. Reid and Zagarodniuk interact much. He kind of gets the impression they don’t get along.
“Jesus, I can’t believe he lets you stay. This isn’t a pissing contest, Mike. You know what we’re dealing with here and you brought in a girl who says her boyfriend was a werewolf.”
Jensen catches Jared’s eye. They stare unblinkingly at each other while they listen to the argument.
“As I said, if you’re doing your job, it shouldn’t matter.”
“I’m making progress with them.”
“Bullshit. You should have seen their faces light up when she started talking.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Dr. Reid exclaimed. “You’ve completely undone any ground I’ve gained.”
“Gain it back,” comes the dry, uninterested response from Zig. “If you can’t, then maybe it needs to be turned over to someone else.”
An exasperated, choked off sound comes from Dr. Reid. “Get out of my office, Mike. Fuck with my work again, and I’ll have you removed. Permanently.”
There’s the sound of fabric rustling and Jensen’s heart thumps in his ears as they hurriedly creep back the way they came toward the nurse’s station. Crouching behind the desk, they hear Zig trundle down the hallway, muttering to himself. Jensen tucks himself under the desk and Jared slides in close beside him. Jensen can feel the warmth coming off Jared’s body and even though he knows it’s completely inappropriate and it’s neither the time nor the place for it, the adrenaline charging through his system makes his heart pound faster and he leans into Jared’s neck and breathes in deeply through his nose.
Jared twitches lightly beside him, his hand coming up to cup the back of Jensen’s neck, hot and solid. Jared buries his nose in the top of Jensen’s head, inhaling the scent there too. Jensen gets that same thrill of wrong that hit him in the supply closet but it only makes his heart beat faster. Trailing in its wake is the added pulse that they could be caught, tucked in under the desk as they are.
Jared shifts, stretching his legs out underneath the desk and Jensen turns and slides so that he’s cradled between Jared’s thighs, their pelvis tucked together. Jared’s leaning back against the wall at an awkward angle; there’s not nearly enough space under the desk for him. He pulls Jensen onto him, tipping Jensen’s head back so he can catch his lips in a kiss.
Jensen feels the press of Jared’s hot tongue against the seam of his lips, licking at the entrance. When he finally parts his lips, Jared’s tongue slips in immediately, mapping the inside of his mouth. It’s cramped and uncomfortable, and he starts rutting against Jared’s leg, sliding his hand underneath the stiff, industrial cotton of Jared’s shirt. He traces the lines of Jared’s chest, loving the feeling of soft skin stretched over tight muscles. Jared slithers one of his big hands into the back of Jensen’s pants, pushing past the waistband and gripping his ass tightly, pressing them closer together.
Jensen tilts his head to get a better angle at Jared’s mouth, his tongue darting out quickly against Jared’s before he pulls back slightly to mouth at Jared’s jaw. The stubble is sharp against his tongue, making a rasping sound as he nips at it. Jensen tries to move up onto his knees, shifting to get a hand down Jared’s pants and he cracks his elbow hard against the underside of the desk, the resulting thwack echoing around them, making them pause. Lips millimeters apart, panting into each other’s mouths while they wait for any sign that they’ve been heard. Jensen’s on all fours, his head turned slightly to the side to listen. Jared’s tongue sneaks out and darts into his ear, wet and slippery and Jensen nearly giggles at the ridiculousness of it. He turns his head to find Jared’s eyes gleaming with mischief at him. He slides his hand into Jared’s pants and the mischief fades replaced by lust as Jensen wraps his fist around Jared’s cock and starts stroking. Jared gets his own hand down Jensen’s pants and they jerk each other off slowly, matching strokes, trading squeezes, staring at each other, trapped under the desk.
It’s quiet and cramped and slow until Jared comes suddenly, without warning, hot and sticky into Jensen’s fist. The smell of it, of them and the look on Jared’s face pushes Jensen over the edge and he turns his face into Jared’s neck and comes, breathing in the salty male scent of Jared.
He drifts drowsily, he’s not sure for how long, but when he focuses again, he’s sprawled in Jared’s lap, Jared carding fingers through his hair.
“That better be your clean hand, bitch.”
Jared’s laughter is low and rumbly and Jensen can feel it through his chest.
“Jerk.”
***
Waiting for his private session to start, Jensen’s fucking confused.
If he’s Jensen, then he’s really messed up. He’s created this whole other life for himself, a life that includes monsters, angels, demons and hunting. A life where he’s a killer and fucking his own brother. How much must he want to escape his own life if Dean’s life is preferable?
But if he’s not Jensen, if he’s Dean, he’s even more messed up. His whole life is spent dealing with monsters, angels, demons and hunting. He’s a killer and he’s fucking his own brother.
At least if he’s Jensen, then he and Jared aren’t related and the fucking each other thing isn’t so bad.
It makes him feel sick with guilt when he thinks of them as brothers.
But it makes him feel sick with something else when he thinks of them not being related.
He was feeling better on the meds. At least, he thought he was. He didn’t take them yesterday and he didn’t take them today and things are disjointed and twitchy. Like a strobe light playing in his brain, only letting his neurons engage for brief moments before shutting down again. Certain things do seem clearer now. Jared is clearer.
Not Jared. Sam.
And if Jared is Sam, that makes Jensen Dean.
But if they’re Sam and Dean, then they’re still fucked. Trapped in a mental institution with people trying to make them think they are Jensen and Jared.
Jesus his head hurts.
He looks up as Dr. Reid enters the room and she smiles warmly at him. He’s conflicted because he likes Dr. Reid. She makes sense. She’s kind and she listens. He feels better when she’s around and they can talk things through.
But is that part of the deception?
Or is it that she’s a good doctor?
“Jensen,” she says as she folds herself into the beanbag chair. “How are you feeling today?”
“Fine. Good.”
“How are you doing on the meds?”
“Um. Okay.” He waves his hand in a general kind of way and is horrified when he notices it shaking a bit.
She eyes him for a minute and he shifts his eyes away from her gaze. “All right,” she says finally. “Anything you want to talk about today?”
“Why don’t you separate us? Me and Sam, I mean, Jared.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them and he’s horrified that he blurted it out like that.
She nods sagely. “It’s a good question.” She pauses and it seems like she’s gathering her thoughts. “I’ll be honest with you, Jensen, it’s been a tough decision. You and Jared have a shared delusion and you can both be debilitating to the other’s recovery. But you could also both be instrumental as well. If I can lead one of you out of the delusion, the other may follow. Conversely, if one of you choses to remain firmly entrenched in the delusion, he can bring the other back down repeatedly.
“It’s something I’ve struggled with and I’ve sought advice from other colleagues about it. In the end, I thought it would detrimental to your emotional stability to separate the two of you. I think that separating you would increase your paranoia. Your worry and distress over where he was and what was happening to him could stall your recovery. I think you’ve noticed over the past few days that while you have been responding to treatment, Jared has not. It’s my hope that you, being the stronger of the two, can be the leader and pull him up to your recovery level. At the same time, his reluctance to leave the delusion is a sort of proving ground for you. When you leave Lofty Pines, there will be times in your life, situations that are difficult or stressful and you may find yourself starting to slip. But knowing you were able to maintain your reality under the most trying circumstances here at Lofty Pines will give you the confidence to continue on after you’ve left.”
Jesus, it makes so much sense when she talks. It’s calm and concise. There are no beasts under the bed, no prophecies nor omens. They way she talks about him being the stronger of the two, the leader, resonates with him. He could be the one that gets them out of this.
“Jensen,” she says. “I feel like we’re at a crossroads here. I real turning point in your recovery and there are some… truths that you need to face. I think we can do that together.”
He’s nervous, stomach fluttering and feeling a little sick and he’s not sure why. “Okay,” he says, voice wavering slightly. “Like what?”
“I want to talk about the stressor in your life that led to your psychotic break. The event that brought you here, to Lofty Pines.”
He stills. “I don’t remember anything. I don’t… there’s nothing before I was here.” He rubs at his forehead.
“Nothing?” she says softly. She leans forward slightly. “You’re rubbing your forehead, why?”
He stops as soon as he realizes he’s doing it. “I don’t…”
“Jensen, when we were going through Dean Winchester’s history, you told me there had been a car accident. Do you remember?”
A cold sweat breaks out over his upper lip. He doesn’t like thinking about the accident. The accident leads to thoughts of being dead and reapers. Of Sam and Dad fighting. Of Dad making his deal, his deal for Dean, to keep Dean alive in exchange for himself.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I think it’s important,” she presses softly. “I think that Dean carries a lot of guilt over the death of his father, John.”
“Dean’s not real,” he says automatically. The room is swaying slightly. It must be withdrawal from the meds. He’s breathing faster, there’s not enough oxygen in the room.
“No, Dean’s not real. You made him up. Built him out of pieces of yourself. Made him things that you are and things you aren’t. Made him do things you don’t want to do, things you can’t do. Gave him a life with no attachments to anyone, except his brother Sam. There’s no one else in Dean’s life, is there?”
He grips at his knees, knuckles white, fingers pushing into flesh. “Why are we talking about this?”
“Tell me about the accident, Jensen.”
Her voice is low, even. Hypnotic. He rubs at his forehead again and can almost feel a scar under his fingertips. The breaking of glass, the screech of metal on metal. The shrieking of a vehicle giving under pressure. And guilt. Jesus, the guilt. Like a sick, heavy weight, running down his esophagus and settling in his stomach, twisting and curling with thick fingers.
“There was an accident,” he breathes.
“Yes. There was.”
“I was in an accident.” His voice barely registers.
Breaking of glass, screech of metal on metal, and… then silence. And darkness. Nothingness. Except guilt. Horrible, viscous, slippery guilt sliding it’s way into his chest.
“I don’t remember.” He wants to get out, he has to get out, he can’t breath here, he can’t be here like this.
Dr. Reid is kneeling in front of him, her hands on his knees, careful yet firm. “Okay, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it anymore.” She rubs his knee soothingly, like a mother would and it feels warm and real.
“I don’t remember,” he repeats.
“Okay. That’s okay. We’ll talk about something else.”
He nods dumbly at her words, not really caring what she’s saying, only that she’s using her low, quiet voice, and she keeps rubbing his knee.
***
Sam steels himself for his session with Dr. Reid.
No matter what she says this time, he’s not going to lose his cool. His name is Sam, his brother is Dean, and she can’t twist it all around and make it something it’s not.
Sure, he’s fucked up. Isn’t everyone? He saw more neuroses and phobias at Stanford than he knew existed in the world. Everyone’s a little fucked up, in some way or another. And the people who can’t admit it to themselves are the sorry sons of bitches he feels for.
He knows that what he feels for Dean, what they feel for each other, isn’t healthy. God knows, he knows it. But their life was like this huge centrifuge, distilling and separating everything and everyone out until it was just the two of them. Only Dean knows the things he knows. Only Dean understands the things he’s seen, the things he’s done. Dean knows what it’s like to kill a demon knowing that you’re killing the human as well. Dean knows how hard it is to get blood out of clothes and how it never really comes off your hands. Dean was there the night Jess… god, he still can’t even talk about it. But he doesn’t have to, because Dean knows.
So yeah, what they feel for each other isn’t considered ‘normal’ by society, but that’s the same society that they save from the abnormal on a daily basis, so he can’t really fault them for thinking inside the box. He and Dean spend their whole lives making sure the populace can live safely inside their little box.
“Jared,” Dr. Reid says as she slides the door open from her smaller office.
“It’s Sam,” he says calmly.
Her eyes tighten slightly. “Sam,” she repeats. “I guess that means you’re still not taking your meds.”
He doesn’t say anything, just stares back at her as she settles down into the beanbag chair.
“Did you have a chance to think about what I said last time? Is Sam Winchester’s life a happy one?”
He gives her a somewhat feral smile. “Doesn’t matter if it is or not. It’s all I’ve got.”
She nods as if she’s thinking about it. “Well, I think we should do what we can to make Sam’s life better then.”
“Really,” Sam says, humoring her. “How?”
“If you believe you’re Sam, let’s explore Sam’s issues. You’re very intelligent. Went to Stanford, correct?”
He narrows his eyes. “Yeah, pre-law.”
“Intelligent, as I said. Surely you can see that you have issues to work through.”
“Like what?” he says, tensing. He won’t discuss Dean. Absolutely not.
“Let’s discuss your Madonna/Whore complex.”
“What?”
“Your mother, died tragically and in some ways has become the Madonna of your family. Perfect, pure. You recreate her in Jess, your girlfriend at Stanford. Blonde, beautiful - yet she too dies tragically. Sarah, who you can’t be with because of your lifestyle also fits this mold - unattainable, beautiful. Then Meg, a demon. You move on to Madison, who turns out to be a beast you have to kill. Ellen, your surrogate mother, dies along with Jo, a sort of sister, who also follows the blonde, beautiful and dead motif Then Ruby, another demon and Anna, an angel.” She raises an eyebrow at him and he shifts uncomfortably under her gaze. “You could not be more clear in your conflict than you are with those two sharing an… arc in your life, so to speak. Especially since Dean had an… encounter with Anna, while you were in a relationship with Ruby. Women in your life fall into two categories. Category one: beloved, at times cherished and predominately dead. Category two: monstrous, evil and in need of being controlled or killed.”
He huffs. “It’s not like that.”
“Really? Name one women in your life who isn’t unattainable, dead, demonized, or disposable.”
His brain stutters and he opens and closes his mouth.
“Don’t you find that odd? What is the probability of that happening consistently?”
He clenches his jaw. “Just because it’s unlikely doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”
She considers his words. “No, you’re correct. It’s not impossible. But it certainly indicates a pattern.”
It hits him suddenly. The best defense is a good offense. “Yeah?” he counters. “So which are you?”
She squints slightly. “I’m sorry?”
“Since I’m Sam and you’re a woman in my life, you have to fall into one of the two categories. Either you’ll end up cherished and dead, or demonized… and dead.”
She leans back in her beanbag and crosses her arms, contemplating. “Touché.”
“Either way, it doesn’t look good for you.”
She levels him with a stare, her eyes flat and cool. “Sam, do we have to put you back in security?”
“You maintain I’m not Sam, so you should be safe.” This time it’s his turn to pause, let her think about his words. “But if you’re…” lying “wrong, and I am Sam…” he shrugs. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”
“I suppose so.” She looks down at her notes again, her bobbed hair swaying slightly. “Tell me, what about your escape to Stanford and your desire for a normal life?”
He shrugs. “What about it?”
“Do you still feel that way at times? Like you want to leave your life of hunting?”
“No.”
“No? What changed?”
Jess, Dean, YED, Dad….. He shrugs. “I guess I just realized that this was something I needed to do.”
“What about your brother?”
He stiffens. “What about him?”
“If this is something you’re meant to do, that both of you are meant for, then how is it that he’s responded to treatment here?”
Sam shakes his head. “He hasn’t responded. It’s the drugs. You’ve got him drugged out of his mind. Without them, he knows who he is.”
“If that were true, why did he take the drugs in the first place?” Her face is open, eyes unblinking.
He hates her calm expression. Her perfect bob and her stupid flat shoes.
“What?” he asks.
She gestures with her hands while she talks. “If he’s completely in his right mind when he’s not taking the drugs, then why did he start taking the meds in the first place? We didn’t force them on him or you. In fact, even now, we don’t force your meds on you. We don’t inject you, we don’t pour pills down your throat. Taking your meds is your choice.”
Sam has no answer for that. He doesn’t know why Dean started taking the pills.
“Could it be because some part of him recognized he was ill and needed help? That he wanted out?”
Sam fists his hands. “No.”
“Why?”
“I know who I am, I know who we are. I’m Sam Winchester and he’s my brother.”
She nods thoughtfully, the silence stretching out between them.
“Well then, Sam,” she says. “How do you account for the incestuous relationship you have with your brother?”
He feels his stomach clench up and seize. “What?”
“Your relationship with Dean and its incestuous component. Let’s discuss that.”
“I’m not… We’re not…” he stammers out, chest rising and falling quickly.
“Sam,” she says, tilting her head toward him sympathetically. “This is a secured facility. There are cameras all over this building. There’s hardly a moment you’re really ever alone. For security purposes, we have to monitor the patients at all times.”
“But I’m not… he’s not…”
“He’s not what?”
“It’s not like that.”
She folds her hands, interlacing her fingers together. “It’s not like what?”
He can’t say the word. Incest. The word is wrong, bad. It doesn’t apply to how he feels about Dean, how they feel about each other. It can’t be wrong. They love each other.
They’re all they have.
He won’t use that word to describe it. That word is laden with connotations and implications. Wrong, terrible, dirty things and it’s not like that with him and Dean.
He shakes his head. “It’s not like that,” he repeats firmly.
“You tell me you’re Sam and he’s Dean, your brother. And the two of you are sexually involved.” She levels him with her soft gaze. “I’m afraid it’s very much like that.”
***
Jared doesn’t talk to him after his therapy session, which is somewhat new and different. Usually, Jared seeks him out, making dismissive statements about whatever he and Dr. Reid discussed and trying his best to disprove Jensen’s therapy as well. But today, Jared disappears after his session and heads to his room, leaving Jensen in the common room by himself watching the back of Jared as he walks down the hall.
Jensen’s still watching the hallway long after he’s gone until he becomes aware of a presence standing by his side. He looks up from the recliner he’s sunk into and finds Liz standing over him, biting at one of her cuticles and shifting on her feet. He gives her an expectant expression.
“Look, I’m not crazy,” she blurts without any preamble.
“Okay,” he shrugs.
Her eyes dart around like a heroine in a bad spy flick and then she slips her hand into her pocket and pulls out a piece of folded paper that she holds out to him.
He stares at it for a second and she rolls her eyes and shoves it at him. He takes it with deft fingers, unfolding it.
Trevor MacIlway, 42 Dowinigan Road
“What’s this?” he asks gesturing with the paper.
She’s back to chewing on her thumb cuticle and has to pull her finger out of her mouth long enough to answer.
“That’s him, my boyfriend. Well, I guess he’s my ex now. Even if he’s not really dead, we’re still broken up.”
Jensen gives her a look that clearly indicates he does think she’s crazy.
She makes a huffing sound and rolls her eyes again. “Can you do something about it or not? ‘Cause if he’s not dead… I mean, everyone knows where I am, right? And if someone shot me I’d be pissed and I’m not even… you know…” she makes a clawing motion with both her hands toward Jensen, mimicking a werewolf and he flinches slightly. “So, you and your… friend?”
“Brother,” he says without thinking.”
She blinks. “Oh.”
“What?”
She shrugs. “Nothing. Just weird, that’s all. Anyway, you and your brother, can you help me?”
Saving people, hunting things. The family business.
He stares down at the somewhat crumpled note, worrying the paper between his fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Liz shifting on her feet, a slightly nervous jitter to her moves. He looks down the corridor where Jared’s room is and wishes he was here right now. He looks back up at Liz. Her expression is an amalgamation of emotions. Hope, nervousness, wariness, expectation and a touch of fear. He opens his mouth to tell her no, he can’t help her, they can’t help her. She’s on her own.
He finds he can’t bear to say the words.
“Yeah. We can help.”
Her shoulders, formerly hunched up around her ears, sag in relief and she lets out a long breath.
“Okay,” she breathes and then nods to herself. “Uh, thanks.”
With a last, furtive glance around, she shuffles away from him, the soles of her slippers making a swish-thwock sound on the linoleum as she goes. Jensen pushes himself out of his chair and moves as nonchalantly as he can out of the common room and heads toward Jared’s room.
Sam’s room.
His step has a hitch mid-stride as he considers that. If he’s going to do this, if they’re going to do this, then he’s no longer Jared, he’s Sam.
And Jensen is Dean.
He pauses when he reaches the outside of Sam’s door, hand poised and ready to knock. He’s not sure why he’s nervous.
He raps his knuckles down three times.
“Yeah?”
He pushes his way into the room, holding up the piece of paper from Liz. Sam frowns as he sees it.
“Liz gave us the contact information on her boyfriend.”
He sees realization dawn across Sam’s face. It makes him smile.
“What say, we bust out of this joint and hunt some monsters, Sam?”
***
He knew who was knocking at his door before it opened and he saw him there.
Dean.
Jensen.
He’s not sure what to call him.
He holds up a piece of paper and waves it around a bit, and the gesture is so cocksure and slick that it makes Sam’s heart thump.
“Liz gave us the contact information on her boyfriend.”
Sam’s chest tightens and then releases. He sees the look in Dean’s eyes. Dean. Slightly flirty, confident and a little dangerous. They can leave here, escape.
Together.
They can do anything, fight anything, believe anything as long as they’re together.
“What say, we bust out of this joint and kill some monsters, Sam?”
Sam.
Sam stands up and steps toward Dean, standing close, in his space. He clasps Dean on the arms, fingers pressing into the flesh.
“I’m Sam, and you’re Dean.”
Dean grins at him. “Yeah, Sammy. ‘Course we are.”
He can hear the fine hesitation in Dean’s voice. The slight tremor. He’s not sure. Not 100%.
Then again, neither is Sam.
Sam takes a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go kill some monsters.”