Part 2

The psychiatric doctor scrolled through the day's rota on his computer again. His nine o'clock session was cancelled due to the unfortunate events of the night before. In fact, all his sessions had been either shuffled around or pushed back. He took out his notebook from the top drawer and selected a blue pen from his cup. A hard knock came on his door as he was locking his computer. He stood up and invited them in. Two men, wearing smart dark blue suits entered. "Doctor Quirke?" the shorter one asked. The doctor nodded. "May I help you?" They both pulled out their identification. "My name is Agent Murdock. This is my partner Agent..."

"What are the FBI doing here?"

"Um," they both put their badges away. "We're here to investigate the death of one of your patients, Miss Helen Lawler."

The doctor looked them up and down. He reached for his white coat and threw his arms inside. "The local law enforcement were here all morning. I have faith in our local sheriff, Agents."

"Well, actually," the taller agent stepped forward, "it was the sheriff who contacted us."

"Oh," the doctor nodded. "Well, I guess that's a different story. I have rounds to attend to if you don't mind walking with me." They both nodded and followed him out into the hall. The doctor locked his office and led them the way. They asked about the victim. "Twenty nine years old," the doctor replied. "She checked in to us after she tried to take an overdose."

"I thought you had to be crazy to sign in here," one agent remarked.

The doctor stopped and turned to him. "Not everyone in the hospital is your idea of crazy, Agent Murdock. In fact, some of them are actually here voluntarily. Helen was one of those people," he turned back and kept walking. They passed the room where Helen was found. High velocity blood was splattered across the walls. One of the orderlies was mopping up a pool of blood that was on the floor and glanced up as they walked by. "Some of our patients here have depression issues or family issues. Some come after an addiction to drugs or painkillers," the doctor informed them. "Only about ten percent of the patients here have violent tendencies or used to have violent outbursts."

"Which category was Helen in?" the tall agent asked writing something in his notebook.

"She was in category one; Family issues and addiction," the doctor replied. "Her father verbally abused her when she was young and she took painkillers to ease the pain. After a stint in rehab, she came here for depression." They stopped in front of the break room.

"And what about the witness... Alan Burke, what's he saying?"

The doctor looked back at the agents and sighed. He could tell they had never been in a psychiatric ward before and especially had never spoken to a patient from one. "Alan Burke is a category 4. He was sentenced to life in a psychiatric ward for slicing the heads of his parents as they slept in their beds seven years ago. He's been in a trance like state ever since. He's not saying anything because he's never spoken." The doctor opened the door to the break room and led them over to their only witness. The young man sat in front of the window and slightly rocked back and front. "Whatever he saw, if he did see anything at all, you'll never hear about it. I'm sorry agents," the doctor watched them bend down to the patient, "but you'll have to find the murderer the old fashioned way."

Amy brushed her hands through her long blonde hair and pulled it back into a quick French plait. It was after ten and most patients had gone back to their rooms to prepare for their weekly visit by Doctor Quirke. So she was expecting the break room to be quiet. Her head was down to give her hands space to tie her hair back but instantly she knew there were two strangers in the room. She knew they weren't patients. People who sign into crazy ville don't do much in the way of talking. The sheriff had finished his interviews earlier that day and the hospital didn't receive a lot of visitors. She raised her head and saw a very tall man with shaggy brown hair. He was wearing a dark blue suit and writing some notes in a black notebook. The second man was bent down and out of view. It wasn't until he stood up and stepped in front Alan that she gasped. "Dean?" her mouth said before her brain could stop her. All three men looked around. She stumbled and staggered quickly out of the room.

"Why is she here?" Agent Murdock asked. They were watching her play chess in the courtyard with another female patient. The doctor smirked. "Now Agent, you know I can't break doctor patient confidentiality." The taller agent asked which category she was in. "I can't tell you that either. What I can tell you is that she came here voluntarily about three years ago and she mainly keeps to herself. One day a year though, we get to see the real her. On her birthday, she lets her hair down, paints her nails and lips red and wears..." "A red dress," Agent Murdock interrupted. The doctor looked over at him questionably. The agent shrugged. "I met her once on her birthday ten years ago. She was wearing a red dress." The doctor nodded. "Well, you can talk to her if you want but she sleeps in a different wing so she didn't see anything." The doctor opened the door for them. "It's a pity really," he said sadly. "She's too pretty to be in a place like this."

Amy studied the chess board ready for her next move. "I didn't know you could play chess," a voice appeared beside her. "I can't," she replied not looking up. His voice still sounded the same. "But neither can she," she nodded to the old woman sitting across from her. "We just chase each other's pieces on the board." The woman moved her queen and giggled. "Can we talk?" he asked and she nodded getting to her feet. "I've gained a reputation for being the quiet girl, so can we go somewhere more private?" she requested and he nodded holding out his arm allowing her to lead the way.

She led them into her bedroom asking her roommate for privacy. She pulled out two chairs from the wall and invited them to sit down. He introduced the other man as Sam. She shook his hand with a warm smile but it was Dean that her eyes were drawn to. He looked the same but was different. His eyes were still young but his face was tired and worn. She sat across from them on her bed. She could feel his eyes on her and she avoided his stare by looking at her plain clothing. She was glad she had done something with her hair but she wished she had put a little lipstick on. She felt very naked.

"What are you doing here, Amy?" he asked the question she feared. She shrugged. "Things happened," she looked away. "Sometimes you need a little help, you know?" she looked back up at him and was comforted to see them both nod. They were both wearing the same cheap suits with the same dark blue ties, tied in a single knot. There was a slight bulge in their front breast pockets like they held a wallet or identification of some kind. She noticed Dean smile. He knew what she was doing and she stopped. "No, please," he shook his head, "continue." He held out his hand. "I've missed it," he smiled. She smiled back. "Well, you're still a hunter. You wouldn't give up that thrill for a cheap suit. There's a bulge in your breast pocket for your identification. It's not thick enough to hold a detective's badge, so I'm guessing their Federal IDs." She looked to the longer haired man. "You're also a hunter... pretending to be his partner. Only you're not his partner... you're his brother. Not that much younger, maybe four or five years." The man's mouth opened. "Your height isn't helping Dean's ego either," she smiled. He asked her how she could possible know. She tilted her head at him. "Now Sammy, if I told you all my secrets we wouldn't have anything to talk about." Sam shot a look at Dean. "Don't look at me, man," Dean laughed. "I told you she was good."

Amy laughed too. She missed analysing people. Most people in here were too crazy to listen to her and the rest thought she was too crazy to think it. Seeing Sam's shocked face gave her the rush that she once loved. It was a rush that she hadn't felt in over four years. Reading they were brothers was easy but she guessed that a big brother couldn't resist using a lovable nick name.

Dean asked her about Helen Lawler. Amy nodded. "She came in about a year ago. We starting meeting each other in the break room once a week to talk about regular stuff, movies, food, old boyfriends..." She turned to look out the window. "She told me she tried to kill herself after her father tried to rape her. He passed out before he could... you know. Immediately after taking the pills, she realised her mistake and called for an ambulance. I can't believe she's dead. She was a nice girl," Amy ended sadly. Dean told her about their only witness not being able to talk and wondered if she might be able to help them.

"I'm going to tell you something that might sound a little strange," Dean began. She felt like laughing. She heard strange every day. "We hunt the supernatural." She tilted her head. She didn't understand his meaning. "Demons, witches, ghosts, basically anything that goes bump in the night." She looked deep into his eyes. They didn't dilate. To her surprise, he was telling the truth. She shook her head and gasped. "I think... this is the first time someone's actually caught me off guard. A deer hunter, I get. I maybe thought you were even a bear hunter... but ghosts? How do you kill something that's already dead?" she asked. They looked at each other and smiled. They seemed to relish in her confusion. Dean informed her that much of the supernatural world had a dreadful fear of salt. Sam leaned forward and asked if she had seen anyone with black eyes or incredible strength or someone with a huge appetite. "No," she shrugged, "but then again, I wasn't really watching for it... there was one thing, though..." she suddenly remembered but shrugged it as nothing. Her audience was suddenly captivated.

It started about three weeks ago. Helen always suffered from the odd night terror. Then last week, she started having them during the day. "Last Friday, we were in the break room together. One of the orderlies came in and she started screaming like he was attacking her but he was nowhere near her." Sam took out his notebook and asked for the orderly's name. "Jason Redding, I think, but Jason's a sweetheart. He wouldn't touch a fly." Dean raised an eyebrow. "Maybe something happened behind closed doors." Amy knew what he was implying and threw him off the idea. "This is an old building. All the doors are warped. Even if you wanted to close the doors, you couldn't."

Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his card. "Do you get telephone privileges?" he stopped himself from handing it over. "It's a hospital, Dean, not a prison," she felt a little hurt and took the card from him reading Agent Murdock's cell phone from it. "We don't have to worry if we drop the soap here."