I do not own Star Trek 2009 or Supernatural

It was supposed to be funny! It was supposed to go in The Prank Defenders! It ended up being…something else. Not depressing or angsty, but not exactly hilarious either. It probably belongs with Snapshots from a Bar, despite its lack of Amanda. An odd duck of a story.

Psych [Impala]

Dean frowned at the incoming text message from Jim Kirk. "The hell?" he muttered. A psychologist? Starfleet Command was issuing orders for several major ships to expect a surprise psychology spot check. Enterprise had just finished theirs and judging from the verbose text message, Bones was pulling his hair out, Jim had schmoozed his way thorough it by flirting outrageously with the pretty psychology intern, Spock had barely passed as usual and the rest of the crew was killing themselves with laughter.

He glanced over at Sam, who was innocently fiddling with his control panel. "Sam," Dean called and sent the text message over. It was the highlight of Dean's morning to watch his brother read the message and then pale to match the polished white of his console. Dean knew exactly what his brother was thinking – how the hell did Sam make alpha shift seem sane?

Still, there wasn't a whole lot Dean or Sam could do. Starfleet said the captain wasn't supposed to inform anyone other than his first officer and CMO. He broke the news to Ellen in his ready room, alone on purpose.

Ellen had laughed until she was blue in the face. While he was trying to get her to be serious, the shuttle carrying their psychologist arrived.

To Dean's relief, the woman was in her late forties, comfortable and friendly with an open honest face. She didn't look like the sadistic type out to get his crew and she assured Dean she didn't need an escort. She'd just start in engineering and observe the ship, speak to who she liked.

Dean agreed, was polite and then escaped like a bat out of hell before it all went boom in his face.

Dr. Beth Dale was a veteran of Starfleet psychology. She had been picked to handle both the Enterprise and the Impala because she had managed to successfully corner Admiral Pike and Captain Gibbs for their evaluations without causing an interplanetary incident. And really, she didn't like to think of it as cornering. She just wanted to make sure that no one was suffering from any major psychological problems that would creep up on the insular star ship crews, depression being chief among them.

Still, she couldn't help a little tingle of apprehension. She'd left her student behind after poor Paula nearly ran away with a very attractive, magnetic Captain Kirk and Enterprise had taxed Dr. Dale's considerable limits – a captain whose personality could easily be misinterpreted as narcissistic, a first officer who appeared emotionally constipated and a CMO who was abrasive at best. It had taken all of her expertise to see past the defensive fronts put up by an apprehensive crew. The Impala crew was likely to have the same reaction. She really wished Starfleet would work towards making the mandatory psych checks less confrontational. At this point though, all she could do was lead by example.

She took a deep breath and plunged into the Impala's engineering section.

Commander Bobby Singer

"Can I help you?" a salt-and-pepper haired man demanded, wiping his greasy hands on an equally filthy rag, hazel eyes sharp. This must be the chief of engineering, Commander Bobby Singer. A practical genius who learned through his own experience, the man had no family and from observing his interactions with the crew under him, would not pass any of Starfleet's most recent personnel policy exams.

He was rude, sparing with his words and didn't dish out affirmation like he should.

But she noticed that his safety regulations were stringent, his people worked in harmony and none of them exhibited resentment, anger or fear. Respect for their commander was instilled in every subordinate.

And the man was just plain interesting to watch. Instead of the usual overly technical, slightly hands-off approach most chief engineers took, he was covered in grease and no one bothered to stop and plan what they were attempting. If it didn't work, they just tackled the problem from another angle, often from square one.

"Can I help you?" Commander Singer demanded again.

Dr. Dale shook herself out of her thoughts and asked a deliberately explosive question. "Oh, I'm sorry. Wasn't paying attention. I just have a few questions for you."

Yep. There it was. Commander Singer froze up, eyeing her suspiciously.

Dr. Ellen Harvelle

Dr. Dale realized as soon as she walked into the infirmary she was going to have to lay it all on the line to get anywhere with Dr. Ellen Harvelle. The woman was a respected diagnostician, an excellent doctor and took no bullshit from anyone, be they an ensign, civilian or Captain Winchester himself.

Probably a necessity of the job, given who Dr. Harvelle was in charge of wrangling.

With the whole story laid out before the CMO, Dr. Dale sat back to watch emotion play across the woman's expressive face. Most CMOs were excellent judges of character and Dr. Harvelle would definitely be able to tell if she was lying.

Finally, Dr. Harvelle leaned forward, hand extended. "Pleasure to meet you. Care for a cup of coffee?"

Lieutenant Luke Castiel

The young man was a fascinating study and Dr. Dale was absolutely certain that if she dug far enough she would find several underlying issues that probably needed addressing.

However.

That was not her purpose here today.

Lieutenant Luke Castiel spoke highly of his friends, even higher of his captain and asserted that he was aware of his unique personality. He also said that his friends were all he needed to succeed in life.

He was frustratingly blank, hard to read. Dr. Dale was tempted to try and analyse him further. She loved a good challenge but again, she had to remind herself that she was just here to make sure he wasn't a danger to himself or anyone else.

And after she got the lieutenant going on his favourite subjects, she realized one could learn quite a bit from him. Stories spilled out after she established she wasn't here to remove anyone from duty. His deadpan delivery had her stifling giggles as he told yarn after outrageous yarn about the people he considered bigger than life – Captain Winchester and his brother, Captain Kirk, his best friend Ash, his second best friend Chekov.

She was privileged to hear of the camaraderie shared by a group of people who had picked up this lost little fledgling and helped him grow into someone so brilliant.

Commander Ash

After encountering Commander Ash, Dr. Dale had to resist the urge to pat herself down, ensuring that her watch and wallet were still with her.

He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of a psychologist and tried to irritate her by stealing the stylus from her PADD, the PADD itself, his glass from the table, the little dish of candies put out in the rec room. She watched several other small items all vanish mysteriously from sight.

Someone had worked Commander Ash over, tried to take him apart psychologically in the name of her profession. Dr. Dale didn't like to see that sort of abuse ever and especially not in such a talented officer.

So she kept her questions gentle and ignored him when her old-fashioned pocket-watch vanished from its clip on her briefcase. The thought of those same light-fingered skills applied to her financial profile was more than a little terrifying and she started to seriously worry for the first time when the commander started discussing his current level of electronic access with gleeful relish.

But Captain Winchester walked by in passing and noted that Commander Ash had a suspicious lump in his back pocket. "Ash," the captain warned verbally, but his eyes were fixed on Dr. Dale, who let the glare roll off her with relief and took no offense. Sheepishly, the commander returned every item he stole with a repentant grin and Dr. Dale noted down a positive conclusion. Captain Winchester would keep Commander Ash from harming himself or others.

Commander Jo Harvelle

Commander Harvelle was almost disgustingly healthy when it came to her psyche and Dr. Dale couldn't help but wonder how exactly the young woman ended up on a ship of oddballs.

Then she asked the commander to tell her how many weapons she carried.

Dr. Dale had to reassess her initial conclusion after seeing the excited bounce Commander Harvelle gave her chair and rattled off a disturbingly high number with an enthusiastic offer to produce them all.

Alpha Shift

Dr. Dale decided to just ignore that whole problem and mark them down as…something. Anything. Perhaps she should have taken Lieutenant Castiel's advice and asked Commander Winchester to accompany her.

Alpha shift was disturbingly transparent. She had expected them to be all sorts of shadows and trickery, avoiding her and all her questions.

Instead, they took her on an enthusiastic tour of their entire deck. It consisted of, among other things, a rather illegal-looking still, an undoubtedly only quasi-legal explosives laboratory, an experimental robotics section (she was mildly disturbed by the remote-controlled life-sized facsimile of Captain Winchester half-assembled on one table. It looked almost exactly like the man and she didn't want to think about what they could do with such a thing) and a computer lab full of hacking programs capable of running havoc amongst the Federation.

Either they were just very engrossed in their work or they were eventually planning to take over the world. If they were planning the latter, Dr. Dale was going to make sure she was on their side. She decided to reserve a conclusion until she met their commander who, they assured her was very, very sane most of the time and only very, very crazy every now and then.

Surprisingly, she thought she could trust their observations regarding Commander Winchester. Not even one member of alpha shift had lied to her during their impromptu tour.

But she did not want to know how they managed to animate the skeletal pterodactyl with glowing eyes that had chased her around Lab 4.

Commander Sam Winchester

The first officer of the Impala was an enigma in many ways. Taller and stronger-looking than many but quiet-spoken for the most part, his big hand was gentle but firm when he greeted her. He invited her to sit beside him and watch as he worked.

And how he worked. She would have to put in a note to Captain Winchester to keep an eye on his brother, to make sure he didn't burn out some day.

In the forty minutes she spent watching him, he managed to iron out a tiff in alpha shift (which was good because the scientists involved happened to be fighting over an explosive compound. The fight, of course, was over whether or not the compound would blow a hole in the deck), recalibrate a very complicated looking string of data and field no less than four calls from an irritated diplomat who apparently had been slighted at a state dinner three days ago by Commander Harvelle.

She had heard that Sam Winchester stepped softly and carried a big stick, but she saw no evidence of the stick as he calmly talked the diplomat down to a grudging acceptance that perhaps he himself had been a bit hasty in judging the commander.

Then she was happily writing down her conclusions and walking away.

Dr. Dale jolted to a halt in the middle of the corridor, causing Commander Ash to swerve around her with a mild curse.

She hadn't been so smoothly brushed aside in years. Commander Winchester had just totally ducked any and all pointed questions. She spun on her heel, determined to talk to the commander again.

Even after she cornered him again, the man was as slippery as a wet fish.

She finally decided to just scribble down that he was a workaholic.

She had to try very hard to keep from writing down 'infuriating' before 'workaholic.'

Captain Dean Winchester

Dr. Dale thought his brother was bad.

Commander Sam Winchester had nothing on Captain Dean Winchester.

She searched the entire ship twice, the second time with help from her allies Dr. Harvelle and Lieutenant Castiel and she still couldn't find the elusive captain.

Finally, she threw her hands up in exasperation and plunked herself down at the largest window she could find, staring out at the nebulae the Impala was currently exploring. Huffing out sigh, Dr. Dale started expanding on her findings until they were complete and she was just doodling.

The crew still didn't quite make sense. She needed to talk to the captain before she could ensure that this fragile, unbreakable misfit crew would fall together. They were clearly close knit, a family of sorts, but if there was even the slightest weakness in their captain, this ship would implode on itself.

Commander Winchester would work himself to a shadow, trying to help too many people at once.

Alpha shift…would probably blow up the ship after Commander Winchester burned out. Less facetiously, the surprisingly fragile geniuses would probably end up crammed into dusty corners of forgotten Starfleet labs, considered too eccentric to keep on a star ship.

Commander Harvelle would get herself killed on an away mission in a desperate attempt to protect everyone she assumed responsibility for.

Commander Ash would stick his itchy fingers into a puzzle too big and dangerous for him.

Lieutenant Castiel would become more and more introverted in a cold world that rarely paused to consider the quieter, unique individuals.

Commander Singer would never come out of engineering, eventually losing the softer side of his personality that allowed him to mentor every person in his engineering department.

Dr. Harvelle would take too many deaths personally and break down.

So. Where was the captain?

"What are you going to report?"

Beth Dale nearly jumped out of her skin and couldn't suppress a small shriek of surprise.

She glanced up from her cross-legged seat on the floor.

Captain Dean Winchester, handsome and charismatic. An academic and tactical genius in his own right but definitely a wild card as well. Starfleet Command constantly complained that the captain refused to follow regulations when they hindered him in attaining a set goal.

"The truth," she replied, realizing that she was going to have to draw her conclusions from this short little conversation.

The captain leaned up against the wall. "And what is the truth?"

Dr. Dale watched his blank face carefully. "I don't know yet. I haven't met the lynchpin of this crew."

Captain Winchester blinked several times in surprise. "You've talked to Sammy."

An underestimation of his own importance. Interesting.

"Commander Winchester is an excellent emotional buffer and an integral part of this crew. But you are the heart of this crew," she concluded aloud. "And it's a good crew. You have nothing to fear from my report. But you already knew that, I think."

The captain shrugged. "I've been screwed over by Starfleet Command too many times to automatically expect fair treatment." His body language was very telling, expressive as he shifted, used one hand to illustrate a point.

This crew should not function. Their captain had aspects of every single command team member in his personality. He had his brother's over-dedication to work, Commander Ash's paranoia regarding Starfleet Command, Lieutenant Castiel's unique personality slant expressed in an elaborately extroverted façade, the list went on.

But he had the best qualities as well, held together with the unwavering courage expressed in his stellar mission record. Traits any half-assed psychologist would see and identify as a whole laundry list of problems became his greatest strengths.

Provided of course, he wasn't warped by life and its travails.

That was where his crew came in. She had heard it in every conversation she'd had about Dean Winchester. The man had faults, everyone knew that. And they helped out, they worked together at supporting everyone.

Much like Enterprise, she reflected. That was probably why the crews got along so well. Additionally, she realized, scribbling down another note, the two crews could help each other. She'd suggest they got shore leave together as often as they requested it.

Snapping her PADD cover shut, she stood abruptly. "It's been a pleasure, Captain Winchester. I assure you, Starfleet Command will have no room to complain about your crew's mental health."

And finally, finally, Dr. Dale got the last laugh.

Captain Winchester stood gaping at her and she cherished every second, knowing he would get his feet back under him in a minute.

"You sure you're a Starfleet shrink?" he asked as a way to regain equilibrium.

She swallowed a grin and nodded. "Fifteen years and going strong."

"Okay then," he offered her a hand up and flashed a disarming smile. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Got a bar around here?" she asked. "I had to interview every single member of alpha shift."

The captain threw back his head and laughed whole-heartedly. It warmed Dr. Dale all over in a way she hadn't felt since her son died. Dean Winchester's laugh was a lovely sound and she was unreasonably proud of herself for prodding it out of him.

"We got a bar," he said with amused, deliberately poor grammar. "Come on. You can tell me horror stories about shrinking people and I'll tell you the real version of the tales Cas spilled."

And so Dr. Beth Dale was drawn into the Impala's spell.

I'm still working on the Enterprise version of Psych, which promises to be rather funnier…you'd think it'd be the other way around, but nooo, the Impala crew wanted to be the serious ones. Geez.