Author's Note: Just an idea that popped into my head while watching my new dvd set of Supernatural. It's growing as I'm typing it so let's see where it takes us.
Disclaimer: Supernatural does not belong to me. Only the characters in this story (Tilly, etc.) are mine.
The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast
The slow one now
Will later be fast
As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin'
—Bob Dylan
Wapato, Washington
The grey, misty atmosphere around the town was anything but beautiful. It wasn't uncommon, though. In fact, most days were as this one: bleak, very bleak. Tilly sighed as she drew her large coat around herself. Her large purse swung around one arm as she attempted to keep her balance as she made her way towards her icy car. Her breath fogged around her face as she shakily unlocked the driver's side door. The steely leather seats did nothing to help her plummeting body temperature. Sighing, she quickly started the vehicle before blasting the heat as high as it would go. One day she would find the nerve to leave this God-forsaken town. Until then, she would continue to endure the unearthly cold her town insisted on sustaining far past the winter months.
"A top of the morning to you early birds out there. After you're done hitting the snooze button and wishing unemployment paid as well as your mundane job, make sure to keep a watchful eye out on the road. Mother Nature has once again graced us with her icy touch and the roads are particularly slick. Great news for the junkies out there who crave the high of driving ten miles over the speed limit. While you daredevils keep outrunning the fuzz, the rest of you be careful on that asphalt. In other news—"
Tilly slammed the radio off as she pulled into the office parking lot. She glared at the contraption, her mood as dreary as the weather. Reaching for her purse, she quickly locked up her car before heading inside. Heat immediately enveloped her as the glass door swung closed behind her. She breathed in deeply, her mood lifting slightly at the warmth.
"Good morning, Dr. Evans," Grace, the young receptionist at the front desk greeted. Her perky peach lips peaked into the same cheerful smile she always wore in the mornings, her fingers typing rapidly away at the keyboard in front of her.
"Morning, Grace," Tilly called back. "Any messages for me?"
"Mr. Lewis would like you to call him back at your earliest convenience." Grace answered as she stopped her typing to search through her top drawer. She pulled out a slip with a phone number on it before handing it to Tilly. "His client has just been moved to Silver Creek Mental Institution on the insanity plea. They need an expert opinion."
Tilly took the phone number. She checked her wristwatch before asking, "Anything else?"
Grace shook her head. "Your mother tried calling again, but I told her you were out on vacation just as you told me to say."
"And you told her that I wasn't taking any calls while away?" Tilly asked hurriedly.
"Of course," The young receptionist answered, her fingers already pounding away at the keyboard once again.
"Good," The older woman muttered.
The phone suddenly rang, Grace quick to answer it. With one last glance at the front desk, Tilly took the opportunity to leave. Trudging down the hall, she languidly made her way into the large office down the far hallway. Flipping on the lights, she shrugged out of her overcoat before tossing it and her purse upon the lone chair that occupied the area next to the doorway. Plopping down at her desk, she sighed as she glanced over the scattered papers that lay on the surface of the wooden table. Taking a few in her hand, she glanced over them casually. Most were concerning convicted felons who hoped to use the insanity plea to shorten their paroles. Tilly reordered the documents before stowing them into a drawer in her desk. The felons could wait a few more days in their cells.
The young woman jumped suddenly as her intercom beeped loudly. "Dr. Evans?" Grace's smooth voice called through the speaker.
"Yes, what is it?" Tilly answered.
"Mr. Palmer is here to see you."
"Send him in." Tilly requested, a small click being her only response.
She quickly cleared off the rest of her desk before scooting in her chair to face the filing cabinet next to her. Pulling the third drawer open, she riffled slowly through the numerous files before stopping at a particularly bulky one. Pulling it from the shelf, she softly pushed the cabinet shut before laying it out on her desk. She opened it just as a small knock resounded at her office door. Tilly glanced up, her lips falling into a warm smile as she caught sight of the man standing in her doorway. His skittish eyes glanced back and forth as he waited for her to acknowledge his presence.
Standing from her desk, Tilly motioned towards the small couch near her. Her chocolate eyes remained calm and serene, her body language following suite. Although she felt anything but social today, she was professional enough to put on a cheerful façade for her patient. After having Mr. Palmer as her patient for over five years, she had grown accustomed to him clamming up if her aura didn't ooze serenity.
"Bernard," Tilly continued to smile as she spoke. "How are you this morning? Come in, have a seat. Would you like a cup of coffee?"
Bernard's icy blue eye darted towards the young psychiatrist. His jaw was clenched and his visage was skeptical as he began to ring his gloved hands together. While he seemed to have heard Tilly, he made no attempt to acknowledge or acquiesce to her request. Instead, his pale eyes continued to stare at her. They were wide and bloodshot. Tilly recognized the look; Bernard was an infamous insomniac. She figured from his glossy stare and wobbly stance that he hadn't attempted a wink of sleep in at least three days, perhaps four. Slowly strolling over to him, she reached out a slender hand as she asked, "Bernard, did you hear me?"
The man jumped slightly at the contact her fingers made against his arm. His hands stopped their ringing motions as he turned his gaze to stare at Tilly. His jaw relaxed as he studied her calm, welcoming expression. "Dr. Evans..." He trailed off as he continued to stare.
"Bernard, did you take the medicine I gave to you?" He didn't answer. "The big blue pill you're supposed to take every morning?" The man's silence continued. "Bernard, I need you to answer me."
"I...I suppose t-that I forgot this mornin'..." He replied gruffly, his face holding a slightly confused expression.
"Hold on one moment, okay?" Tilly asked before leaving his side to intercom her receptionist. "Grace, can you bring back one dose of Mr. Palmer's medication along with a cup of water, please?"
"Be there in a moment," Grace called back.
Tilly thanked her before moving back over to her patient. "Bernard, I need you to follow me to the couch. I kept the pillows on the left side just for you. That's how you like the pillows, right?"
Bernard nodded slowly as Tilly took his arm and maneuvered him over to the couch. He reluctantly followed her example as he took a seat in his familiar spot upon the couch, his eyes darting back and forth around the room as he sat perched atop the small sofa. "Dr. Evans..."He murmured as he sat stiff.
"Yes, Bernard? Did you want to tell me something?" Tilly questioned as she reached for her glasses that had been discarded on the small table in the middle of the room the day before. She quickly slipped them on before turning to face her patient once more. "This is a safe space, Bernard. Remember? You can tell me anything. I'm your friend and I'm here to help."
Psychiatry 101 taught Tilly to always remind the patient that the session was a safe environment for them to share their feelings. Most often than not her patients were the kind that talked without talking. Her discovery of their real problems came much later in the process. Yet Bernard had always been able to really talk to her without embellishing on the truth or avoiding it altogether. This vulnerability only occurred though when Tilly reminded him that he could find safety in her presence.
The elder man glanced at her with his bloodshot eyes, the shape never straying from its wide angle. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but quickly shut it as the door to the office swung open. Grace strolled in and handed the large pill and water cup to Tilly before smiling softly at Bernard. "How are you today, Mr. Palmer?" She asked. He didn't reply and after a moment's pause, Grace quickly took her leave.
"Here you are," Tilly offered, placing the blue pill in Bernard's hand. He stared down at it unmoving. "Do you remember my directions? You have to swallow it, Bernard. Put it in your mouth and I'll give you the water."
Slowly the man lifted the pill to his lips before placing it in his mouth. Tilly handed him the water and watched carefully as he drank from the cup. He sighed as he lowered it from his lips. A moment's silence ensued before Tilly stood from the couch. She quickly grasped the opened file from her desk before moving to take a seat in the chair across from Bernard.
"So, Bernard," She began. "How was your weekend? Did your sister take you out?"
He nodded.
"And where did you two go? Did you go to the park?" Tilly glanced at the papers in her hand before moving her vision on her patient once more.
Bernard shook his head.
"I hear the farmer's market was in town this weekend. Is that where you went?"
The man sat still this time, either unable or unwilling to answer.
Tilly sat for a moment, her eyes observing the peculiar man before offering, "Oh, I didn't get your answer earlier. Did you want some coffee? I could really go for some right now, as a matter of fact. Should I call Grace and ask her to bring two cups?"
Again there was no answer from the stiff-seated man.
"Alright, I'll ask for two, then." Tilly concluded and was about to stand when Bernard's gaze suddenly shot up to meet hers.
"I don't want any damn coffee." He responded sternly, his expression turning harsh as he sat back against the couch.
"Ah, there you are." Tilly commented with a smooth smile. "I was afraid I wouldn't get to enjoy a conversation with you today. So what is it you'd like to talk about?"
"This weekend..." He started, his resolve melting into the same fearful façade he had worn earlier when entering the office. "It happened again."
Tilly's face fell into a look of concern as she moved to push her spectacles up the bridge of her nose. "Was it the same this time or different?"
"The same." Bernard answered grimly.
"Can you explain it to me?"
Bernard glared across the way. "I already told you about it once, didn't I? It's the same every damn time."
"Well, let's go over it again. Perhaps there was a detail we missed last time that could help us answer why this thing keeps happening to you." Tilly suggested, her right hand reaching for a pen as she flipped to a blank sheet of paper in her file. She popped the lid off as she waited for Bernard to divulge the details of his weekend.
"It always starts the same..." He muttered. "I have a nightmare about a little girl. She's drowning."
"What does she look like?"
His icy eyes fell downwards as he thought for a moment. "She's small...probably not older than eight. She has long red hair and bright green eyes. Her skin is pale, though that could be because—" Bernard stopped short, his mouth clamping shut as he found himself unable to continue.
"Because she's drowning." Tilly finished for him. The elder man nodded.
"I reach out to save her, but I can't seem to find her hand. I try and I try, but I'm always too late. When I finally do manage to reach her, her body is suddenly dragged downwards out of my grasp. I try to see what's taking her, but all I can make out are a pair of glowing orange eyes."
Tilly waited a moment. "Then what happens?"
"I wake up." Bernard answered.
"And does the nightmare go away when you wake up or do you still feel as if you're in it?" Tilly scribbled down a few notes as she listened.
"That's the thing, Doc," He began, his voice shaky. "I'm startin' to think it's not just a dream. Recently when I wake up, the eyes that I see...I can still see them. Usually I see them reflected in the mirror...sometimes they're in the window. I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but every time I see those eyes they get brighter and brighter. This weekend when it happened, I could have sworn they were in the room with me. I heard breathing too..."
"Did you turn on the light? Did you investigate the room to see what you heard breathing?"
Bernard shook his head. "I kept staring at the eyes trying to make out what kind of creature it was. All I remember seeing is a dark shadow, but I must have fallen asleep because next thing I knew I was waking up and it was light outside."
"And there was no evidence of something being in your room when morning came?" Tilly asked.
"Not that I could find. Everything seemed to be in order." Bernard answered. "I know we talked about this, Doc. I know you said these hallucinations are just in my head...but I'm startin' to feel scared, you know? I'm startin' to think that this might not be just another fantasy. It's too coincidental, right? It's been the same nightmare for the past month; the same orange eyes staring at me when I wake up. It has to be more than just a repressed memory."
Tilly breathed in deeply, her hand moving to push back the stray hairs that fell in her face. "Bernard," She started. "Hallucinations can appear to be very real sometimes."
The gruff man stayed quiet, his eyes still on the floor as she spoke.
"And I can see that you haven't been taking the medicine I prescribed. Those are supposed to help with the nightmares, Bernard. If you don't take the pills then these illusions are going to keep occurring." Tilly's voice was soft as she spoke. She knew a stern tone would not help the fearful man across from her. Like many of her other patients, Bernard had been diagnosed with schizophrenia and so hallucinations such as the ones he described were common.
"I tried takin' the pills, Doc. I really did." He offered, his wide eyes rising to meet hers. "And they worked for a little while. I thought maybe they had cured me. But then this weekend...when it happened again I knew the pills wouldn't help. So I've been staying up at night instead. It seems to keep the eyes away just fine."
"What frightens you about the eyes, Bernard?" Tilly questioned.
The man paused, his lip suddenly trembling as he brought his hands together again. They shook as he rung them uneasily. Tilly could make out small beads of sweat upon his forehead as his gaze began to dart around the room again in a frantic manner. "I-I don't really feel safe talkin' about it anymore."
Tilly quickly intervened, using her clinical tactic. "Bernard, you're safe here. Nothing can touch you."
"I know, but..." The man sighed. "I just think that you were wrong earlier."
The young woman's brow rose. "How so?"
"When we analyzed my dreams earlier," Bernard started. "You said that the girl in it—the drowning girl. You said she represents a repressed memory."
"Yes, that's right." Tilly agreed. "Do you remember why you came to live at Silver Creek Mental Institution?"
Bernard's face morphed into a look of sheer anguish as he nodded slowly, his jaw clenching as he reached a gloved hand up to wipe at his eyes. "C-cause of my dau-daughter."
"Do you remember what happened?" Tilly continued. She knew it was hard for him to remember, yet it was also crucial. When he would repress this important memory his nightmares would begin to spiral out of control. There had been numerous occasions where he had to be escorted to their sessions, his arms restrained in a suffocating straight jacket.
"I know that I d-dream about her drowning cause..." He choked back a small sob. "Cause she drowned in the lake outside our h-house and I c-couldn't save her."
Tilly reached her slender hand over to softly touch the elder man's knee. His pale eyes darted to her hand as he sniffed loudly. "It's okay to remember the past, Bernard. You don't have to repress what happened. We talked about this; it wasn't your fault."
"I know," He agreed with a shaky nod. "But I don't think it ended that day. I-I think Lucy still needs my help. She still needs me."
"How does she need your help?" Tilly questioned.
"The creature with the orange eyes," Bernard answered. "I think it has Lucy...it has her trapped."
The rest of the session involved Tilly listening to the distraught man's assumptions of why he continues to have nightmares about his daughter and the strange creature. Usually the young psychiatrist would help him see the reality of the situation and aid him in understanding that everything he sees is a part of his sickness, this being yet another tactic she had gained from her Psychiatry 101 course. With the pill, she had insisted, he wouldn't have to endure the pain of the nightmares anymore. This time as he spoke, though, Tilly listened. She didn't ask him to evaluate the truth from fiction; she didn't convince him that all of this happened because he wasn't mentally stable. She listened, because she knew that sometimes patients needed just that. The manner in which Bernard had entered the office had shown her that he needed an ear to listen to him and a bit of stability while he shared his fears. Tilly offered both, even if she found his hallucinations to be completely artificial.
"I'm leaving now," Grace announced as she passed by Tilly's office. "Need me to do anything before I go?"
"Could you email my schedule to me? I wanted to see if I have time to pencil Bernard in for another session this week."
"Did something happen to him over the weekend?" Grace asked with a concerned frown.
Tilly sighed. "Nothing out of the ordinary. His nightmares are back at full force and I'm afraid if we're not careful he might have another episode soon."
"Poor guy," Grace commented.
Tilly agreed. "I figured another session wouldn't hurt. He needs to stay on top of taking his medication, anyways."
"I'll email you the schedule as soon as I get home." The young receptionist replied before bidding her boss good night.
Tilly flipped through the folder on her desk, her eyes scanning over the details of Bernard's case. Over the last month he had seemed to be dealing with the death of his daughter fine. The nightmares had ceased and each time he came in he was more and more talkative and lively. It appeared as though this weekend had caused the first regression. Tilly had anticipated the set back, but it had occurred a bit sooner than she would have preferred. Orange eyes...She wondered what the hallucination could mean. The psychiatrist knew that the dream of the young girl had to do with Bernard's horrific memory of Lucy's death, yet the dark creature confused her. Perhaps it symbolized his inability to save her? Instead of blaming himself, he felt safer in blaming an unknown entity.
Tilly's eyes lifted from the papers as she heard what sounded like a door creaking open before slamming shut.
"Hello?"
The young woman waited, yet only silence met her as she sat still at her desk. As her eyes lowered back to the folder she held, her ears picked up the slightest sound of footsteps resounding down the hall. Tilly's gaze darted to the dark doorway again.
"Grace? Did you come back for something?" Again, no answer was returned.
Standing from her desk, Tilly slowly made her way out of the office and into the dark hall. Dark russet eyes squinted ahead as a small light in the lobby flickered on and off. The psychiatrist sighed loudly, her lips set into an annoyed frown. Grace always forgot to turn off the light to the storage closet. It had blinked for months, yet neither of them bothered to get it fixed; dealing with psychotic patients, court cases, and asylum visits was more than enough for them to handle. With only one secretary to help her, Tilly just didn't have the time to fix a light bulb in a back closet. Making her way to the lobby she glanced behind the desk towards where the closet was located. The dim light illuminating from underneath the door switched on and off repeatedly. Tilly began to walk towards the annoyance, yet as she reached her hand out to grab the doorknob the light suddenly steadied. She stopped, her eyes keen on the bright light shining from within the closet.
"Huh," She mused. "I guess it fixed itself." She turned with a small smirk. "One less thing I have to worry about."
She took a step back towards her office. The light behind her flickered once more. Tilly huffed in exasperation. "Of course, I'm not lucky enough to have a light fix itself. Who was I kidding?" As she turned around to shut off the light, her eyes suddenly caught on something just outside the office doors. Squinting so as to make out what it was, she suddenly felt her skin grow cold as a pair of glowing eyes opened and settled on her form. She stared back in confusion, her mind reeling as the orange eyes began to register in her brain.
"What the hell," She muttered as she watched the dark figure. Its eyes never left her as she walked towards the door, her mind screaming at her to stop. Tilly could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end while a small sweat accompanied her jittery nerves. She didn't let her fears get the best of her, though. She hadn't't spend the last eights years of her life getting a degree and a doctorate in psychiatry to suddenly gain some sort of belief in the supernatural. There was a logical reason behind the eyes staring at her and she was going to find out what it was.
Reaching for the door, she yanked the handle roughly. The glass didn't budge. "Ah, of course Grace can't turn off the closet light, but she can lock the front door." She commented sarcastically.
Reaching in her skirt pocket, she fumbled around with her keychain before finally grasping the key to the front doors. Jamming it in the lock, she quickly swung the door open and stepped outside. Her eyes searched the perimeter where the creature had been standing, yet now nothing occupied the area except a shallow mist. Tilly sighed, her arms crossing in front of her chest as she glanced around the empty parking lot. Reaching for the door, she let it close behind her as she made her way back to the office. After organizing her desk she decided to call it a night. Retrieving her things, she shrugged into to her large coat as she stood in the lobby. She glanced towards the faulty light in the storage closet and quickly switched it off before leaving the building.
The strange occurrence didn't plague her mind as the night drew to a close and even on the way into her office she had all but forgotten about the ominous eyes. Smiling at Grace as she made her way inside the building the next morning, Tilly strolled down the hall to her office as usual. Dropping her things in the chair next to the door, she glanced at the note that was lying upon her desk. Call Silver Creek Mental Institution. Ah yes, she had meant to check on Bernard to see if he could come in again. Picking up the office phone the psychiatrist quickly dialed the number.
"Silver Creek Mental Institution, this is Gabrielle. How may I help you?"
"Yes, hi. This is Dr. Evans calling to schedule an appointment with Mr. Bernard Palmer. Do you know if his nurse is available? I'd like to set up another evaluation for this week."
"Uh," Tilly's brow furrowed as she heard the receptionist on the line stutter. "C-can you hold on one moment, Dr. Evans?"
A frown broke upon the young woman's lips as she replied, "Of course."
The line cut to the institution's hold message. Sighing, Tilly reached for a few folders she had left on her desk to go through that morning. She flipped through the first one absentmindedly.
"Dr. Evans?" An unfamiliar male voice questioned.
"Yes, who is this?" Tilly asked, her hand closing the file she had been scanning.
"This is Detective Collins. Your patient, Mr. Bernard Palmer, has been missing for the last twenty-four hours. We'd like you to come in for some questioning, if you have the time."
Tilly blinked, her mind suddenly flashing to the strange incidence the night before. "Um, sure I can come in. When would you like me to be there?"
"Meet us here at the mental institution in twenty minutes." The dial tone started up as the call went dead.
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