A/N: I'm slightly nervous because this is my first Supernatural fic... Please no flames, that would completely destroy my self esteem, anyway, I hope this is funny and in-character. I think it is... Disclaimer: I don't own Sam, Dean, or Cas (No! Why?) Therefore, I probably don't own Supernatural.
"So, how would you describe yourself Mr. Winchester?"
"Sam." The tall man who was sitting across from him replied.
"Okay. If you had one word, Sam, how would you describe yourself?"
"Um. Do I really have? Never mind. Hard working? Nah... Troubled, I guess. Crowley would say 'moose'..."
"Crowley?"
"King of- well... He's a stuck up son of a b-"
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"Can you describe yourself in one word, Mr. Winchester?"
"Dean. It's Dean Winchester or if you prefer, Smoking Hot Piece of-"
"Dean. Please answer the question."
"One word. Um. Pie."
"Dean, you can't use food."
Okay... FUBAR."
"FUBAR?"
"You know? Military term?"
"Your father was in the military, wasn't he, Dean."
"Yeah."
"Why would you say FUBAR, Dean?"
"Well, it describes my life. Fu-"
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"Mr. Singer, have a seat." The bearded man sat.
"Your name is Bobby isn't it?"
"Yeah."
"So, Bobby-"
"Doesn't mean you can call me that." He said gruffly.
"I apologize. Mr. Singer, can you describe your life in one word?"
"Listen here, I made a bet and lost. That's the only reason I'm here. You understand? Those idjit's out there are just here cause of that too. Don't expect me to actually talk about anything!"
"Mr. Singer."
"No."
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"Mr. Novak?"
"..."
"Excuse me. Mr. Novak."
"You are excused."
"No. Mr. Novak, can I call you Jimmy?"
"If you want too."
"Can you describe yourself in one word?"
"One word?"
"Yes."
"I don't understand."
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"Why would you consider yourself troubled, Sam?"
"Well, I... I... Okay. My mother died in a fire when I was a child so did my girlfriend, my Dad died in the ER, I've been through hell and back, and my life puts me and my brother in mortal danger every day."
"That's a lot of things, Sam."
"Yeah, no kidding."
"You used to be at Stanford, is that right?"
"Oh... Geez, yeah. Years ago."
"What made you quit?"
"It's... Complicated."
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"Did you have any attachments Mr. Winchester?"
"Yeah. I got a girl. She's the best thing you've ever seen."
"Ah. I thought so, and what happened to her?"
"What do you mean what happened? She's still here."
"She is?"
"Yeah. Down in the parking lot. Want to see her?"
"O- okay..."
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"Mr. Singer."
"..."
"Mr. Singer, please."
"..."
"Mr. Singer?"
"..."
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"Just try, please, Jimmy."
"Some call me a warrior, I don't-"
"Good. Why do they call you warrior?"
"Because I fight the demons."
"..."
"I'm not an archangel like others who command and I'm not a scribe of God, nor an angel who praises God. I'm a solider, a warrior."
"Angel."
"Yes."
"God. Demons."
"Yes."
"I think... I think I need to go."
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"Thank you Sam, for your time. Would you like to book another appointment?"
"NO. No way. I mean, no thank you, I'll just... I'll just go."
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"See? 1967 Chevy Impala. Isn't she gorgeous?"
"..."
"My baby has a V8 327 4 Barrel engine with 275bhp horsepower. 1700 kg of pure classic machinery."
"Dean."
"Yes?"
"It's a car."
"What?! She's not just a car! She's-"
"Oh, look. Times up..."
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"Well. Mr. Singer. Times up."
"Got any beer?"
"No, Mr. Singer."
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Castiel sat in the chair and wondered where the therapist had gone. He'd left the room when he'd started talking about Lucifer. The door opened and Castiel looked up. It was a woman.
"Please, sir, we're gonna have to ask you to leave."
"Of course."
"Mr. Novak?"
"Yes."
"Did you really say you were an angel?"
"Yes. I am an angel of the Lord."
"Right." She said skeptically. "I think you should go."
The woman turned and the flapping of wings caused her to look back around. There was no one there.
The woman left fairly quickly.