Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.
"Do you remember hunting the monsters, Dean?"
Dean laughed. "What are you talking about, Sammy? Monsters aren't real."
"Dean." A hand shook Dean Winchester's body. "It's time to wake up, Dean."
Dean lifted his head from his pillow and grinned. "Good morning, Mom."
Mary Winchester smiled. "You have to get ready for the day. Look at you. You slept in your clothes."
Dean studied his sweats and cringed. "I shouldn't be wearing sweats, anyway." Dean crossed the room to the sink and stared at himself in the mirror. "You're a mean one," he began to sing. "Mr. Grinch!
Mary shook her head. "It's July, Dean. No Christmas music now."
Dean just shrugged. "There was a Christmas tree in the lobby when we came in." He reached to the side of the sink and frowned when his hand met nothing. "You know, this is a crappy hotel that Sammy picked up for us. They keep stealing my razors. I haven't shaved in days and it's starting to look horrible."
"Don't call your brother 'Sammy.' It's hardly the name for a 30-year-old lawyer."
"Whatever." Dean glanced at the calendar on the wall. "Didn't he say he'd stop by today?"
Dean flopped onto bed just as Mary finished straightening the sheets. "Do you think he'll finally talk to you?"
Mary sighed. "Your brother just isn't ready to see me, Dean. You have to give him time."
"Well, sure, but that doesn't mean he has to ignore you all the time. He acts like you're not even in the room."
A knock at the door interrupted the conversation. "Room service!" Dean said cheerfully. He opened the door and let out a sigh of disappointment when the person standing there was not holding a tray. "Can I help you?"
The man smiled slightly. "Are you Dean Winchester?"
"Yes, I am," Dean answered proudly.
"My name is Jason Fisk. I was wondering if I could talk to you about a few things."
"Sure thing. I was just planning to get some breakfast with my mother." Dean gestured to where his mother had stood. He paused for a moment when he realized she wasn't there. "I guess she already left. But I could use some breakfast. Care to join me?"
Jason consulted the clipboard in his hand. "Mr. Winchester, you already ate breakfast today. Also, it's three o'clock in the afternoon."
"Really?" Dean looked at his wrist, not even noticing that there was no watch there. "Maybe I'm not so hungry after all. But I'll still talk to you. Do you want to come in?"
Jason smiled. "Actually, I have an office down the hall. Why don't we go there?"
"Sure." Dean reached to close the door behind him as he walked out. "Why do your doors lock from the outside and not in the inside?"
Jason was silent as they walked down the hall. They entered an office with sparse furnishings. Dean peered at the nameplate on the desk. "Oh, so you're a doctor. The hospital has a doctor?"
Jason motioned for Dean to sit down. "There are occasionally emergencies. I was wondering if you could tell me about how you've been feeling."
Dean frowned. "About what?"
"Anything." Jason glanced at his clipboard again. "Tell me about your father."
"He's dead," Dean answered immediately. Then he shook his head and laughed. "No he's not. He's just missing. I'm hanging out here until my brother can come help me look for him."
"How long has your father been missing?"
"A few days, I suppose. Maybe more. I'm not too good with time lately." Dean frowned. "It was December, but now it's not."
Jason nodded slowly. "When was the last time you saw your father?"
"It was at a funeral, I think. We were at the cemetery and he was making jokes about being dead. Sam, my brother, just ignored him completely. It was weird."
"Interesting." Jason made a few notes on his clipboard. "You mentioned your mother back in your room. Is she here?"
Dean nodded emphatically. "Of course. She's always here, except when I forget her. My brother ignores her too. Mom says he's not ready to see her."
Jason's fingertips met in a steeple under his chin. "Dean, you once mentioned to your brother that you have nightmares sometimes. Do you want to tell me about them?"
Dean's head tilted to the side as his face displayed his confusion. "You were talking to my brother? Why were you doing that?" He rose to his feet and began to move towards the door. "I don't think I should be speaking to you anymore."
Jason stood up as well and held us his right hand. "Dean, don't worry. I just happened to run into him the other day and he mentioned it. I think dreams tell a lot about who a person is."
"Well mine don't," Dean retorted, but sat down again anyway. "Mine are unreal. I usually kill my father in them."
"Interesting, interesting. How do you kill your father?"
"I, um, well, there's this knife, and I just plunge it into his heart. There's always a lot of blood."
Jason nodded. "And why do you do it? What makes you stick that knife in him?"
"Well," Dean shifted uncomfortably. "My mother is there, and she tells me to do it. But. . ." his voice trailed off momentarily. "My mother is dead. She died when I was four. So that's how I know it's just a dream."
"Didn't you say your mother was in your room with you?"
Dean began to shake his head and froze. "That wasn't her. There was nothing there. Sometimes I just see things." His voice shook as he spoke. "I see things, and I do things because of those things. Like when I-" He cut himself off. For a few minutes, he just sat there, unmoving, as he stared into space.
A knock at the door broke the silence. "Dr. Fisk?" A woman in a nurse's outfit opened the door and peered in. "I'm sorry to interrupt but the person you were waiting for is here."
"Thank you." Dr. Fisk pulled himself out of his chair and smiled at Dean. "I have to go speak to someone. While I'm gone, Julie will be here to help you with anything." He gestured to the nurse. "Okay?"
Dean remained silent and motionless. Dr. Fisk stepped out of the room and smiled at the man in the hall. "You must be Sam Winchester. I'm Dr. Jason Fisk." The two men shook hands.
"Are you Dean's new doctor?"
"Yes I am. I was just trying to get to know him, to understand how he thinks. He told me about the nightmares you mentioned over the phone?"
Sam nodded. "What were they about?"
"He said he dreamt that he murdered your father." Dr. Fisk glanced at his notes. "He said that he plunged a knife into his heart because his mother told him to."
Sam's fist hovered by his mouth as he looked away. "That's how it happened. Did he mention if I was there at the time?"
"No, he didn't. Were you there when it happened?"
Sam nodded slowly. "I was there. We'd been on the road looking for Dad and we finally found him. Everything was as normal as our family ever was when Dean suddenly started babbling about Mom and how much he'd missed her. We were wondering what he was talking about when he picked up the knife and-" Sam cleared his throat. "well, it was like he said."
Dr. Fisk nodded. "According to the file, he's been in here for three years, correct?"
"We put him here just before Christmas. The courts wasted little time after the sentencing. They, uh, they said that Oakridge was the best facility in the area."
"It is. They're actually one of the top psychiatric hospitals in the country." Dr. Fisk glanced at his watch and motioned to the door. "Would you like to speak to him for a few minutes?"
"Sure." Sam pulled open the door and entered the room. Julie silently moved to the side, and Dr. Fisk positioned himself out of Dean's line of sight. Sam crouched next to his brother. "Hey, Dean. How are you?"
Dean finally turned his head and stared blankly at his brother.
"Do you know who I am?"
Dean looked away, still silent. After a moment his eyes lit up and he once again faced his brother.
"Dean?" Sam said hopefully.
Dean grinned and gestured to the empty space in front of him. "Mom's talking to you, Sam. Aren't you going to respond?"