Plausible.

Sam woke up screaming, for the first time in six months. He was soaked in sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead, clothes sticking to him all over. The headache was the only thing he noticed for a while, but eventually he realised that he was tied to the bed.

He opened his eyes a crack.

There was a man sitting in a chair nearby, reading a book. There was a clipboard filled with notes lying disregarded nearby.

Sam looked harder at the man. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and seemed relatively unlike a shrink. But Sam knew better. He'd been screaming quite loudly, he knew, and yet the man had paid him no attention. Only shrinks did things like that.

The man set his book down and turned his head to look at Sam. He was young. Crap, Sam thought.

"Good morning," the man said.

"Hello," Sam said slowly, and waited to see what would happen next.

The man pointed to his name badge. "I am Dr Burton. Hence the badge. It says here," he gestured towards the discarded clipboard, "that you had no ID of any kind on you when you were brought in. So, embarrassingly, I have to ask you what your name is. This is not a lame shrink test of cognitive function."

Sam blinked. "My name's Mark," he said.

"Okay. Mark. A last name would be good, too."

Sam thought fast and said, "Campbell."

"Okay," Burton said, picking up the clipboard and giving it a cursory glance. "Here come the lame cognitive tests. The year is…"

"2008," Sam said.

"The month is…"

"July," Sam said.

"The date is…"

Sam had no clue. "I have no clue," he said.

Burton smiled. "Me neither," he said in reply. "I'm lucky I don't have to pass these kinds of tests."

Sam smiled despite himself.

Burton looked down at the clipboard. Sam had the impression that he wasn't really reading anything. This was a bad sign.

"Can you tell me how you got here?" Burton asked casually.

"Uh. Not…really." Sam tested his restraints, oh so carefully.

"Would you tell me what you do remember?"

Sam bunched his fists tighter and thought about what he could say. Burton just waited, hands resting on his knees.

"I was kinda wasted, and…I guess I got…arrested?" This sounded like a plausible lie. Sam was pleased with it. It would explain any odd things that he might have said. It didn't quite explain the screaming nightmares, but Sam figured you couldn't have everything.

Burton said nothing. Just sat there, hands open, waiting.

Sam started to think maybe he had made a mistake.

The shrink tilted his head up and back, and examined the ceiling. "You know what's interesting? You haven't asked why you're in restraints."

Sam pressed his lips together firmly to stop himself from swearing.

"Most people, that's their first question."

"Kinda late to ask it now, right?"

Burton nodded. "So. You were drinking?"

"Yeah."

Burton shook his head gently. "No. Your blood alcohol is zero. Official."

Man, thought Sam. I cannot catch a break.

"Where do you live?"

This caught Sam unawares.

"Uh. Nowhere, really," he said honestly.

Burton made a note on the clipboard. "You're homeless?"

"Uh, no, not like that. I just…move around a lot?" Sam winced at this answer.

The shrink paused for a few seconds, examining Sam's face.

"Let's try again," he said, not unkindly, "how did you get here?"

Sam decided to try to tell him the truth – or most of it.

"I don't remember actually getting here. I think I was…I had kind of a bad dream, and it…I scared somebody, this lady. And she called the cops, I remember that," Sam sighed, "and then I don't know. Then I was here."

Burton's eyes were hard to read.

Sam started to worry. "Is she all right? That woman?"

"Why would she not be?" The shrink's voice was level.

Shrugging, Sam said, "I think I really freaked her out."

"She's fine," Burton said. "I'm more worried about you."

"Ah. You don't need to be," Sam told him.

The shrink smiled fractionally. "This bad dream you had. Were you having another one, just now?"

Sam nodded without thinking.

"Do you have bad dreams often?"

Stay still, Sam told himself.

"When you have a bad dream, are they always as extreme as the one you had tonight?" The shrink seemed calm to the point of disinterest. Sam knew better.

"Extreme? What do you mean?"

"I mean violent."

"Oh." Sam grinned despite himself. "You're unusual."

Burton's face shifted somehow. "Really? How?"

"You don't shy away from it. That's atypical for a shrink. It's more like…"

Burton slipped into a grin of his own. "More like what? An orthodontist?"

Sam laughed. "More like a cop, I was going to say."

"Hmm." Burton's mouth kept smiling, but the laughter faded from his eyes.

Sam's internal alarm went off. "What?"

"There are some cops who want to talk to you."

Crap, Sam thought. "Oh,' was all he said out loud, but the shrink seemed to get more than that.

"I don't let any law enforcement types see my patients until I'm happy that they are fit for interview."

"Okay," Sam said cautiously.

"Currently, I don't have enough information from you to hold them off."

Sam thought about this rapidly. It could just be a ploy to get information, but probably not. And he definitely didn't want to be talking to any cops right now, not after last night. They'd be sure to print him, and that would cause all kinds of trouble. All he needed was time; time to figure a way out, or for Dean to figure a way in. And Burton was giving it to him on a plate.

All Sam had to do was tell more of the truth, with a few strategic lies.

Easy.

Burton caught Sam's eye and asked, "Have you been in trouble with the police before?"

Sam nodded.

"What happened?"

"I was having a dream, a bad one, and when it finished I was in a lady's house, and she was screaming…"

"Like last night?"

"Yeah."

"Are the dreams always the same?"

"Yeah. It's…I don't know how to…stop it."

The doctor looked down at his clipboard. "Tell me what the dreams are about."

Oh, boy. Sam steeled himself. "I dream that there's a fire. In a house, and there are people trapped inside, and I have to get them out or they're going to die."

"How do you get them out of the house?" Burton checked something off on his pad of paper.

"I carry them."

Burton frowned slightly, Sam thought.

"And that's the dream you had last night?"

Sam nodded. Had he said something wrong?

"Can you remember how you got to the house last night?"

"No," Sam lied.

The doctor put his pad and pencil down on the floor. Sam didn't bother trying to sneak a look.

"Mark," Burton said quietly, "I'm going to ask you some questions, and it's important that you answer honestly, whatever the answer is, okay?"

Sam just looked at him. He didn't have to pretend to be worried.

"Okay, Mark?"

"Okay," Sam said.

"Have you ever harmed an animal deliberately?"

"No."

"Have you ever started a fire deliberately to damage something?"

Sam couldn't say no. He had. Just not this time.

"Yes," he said.

"Have you ever heard voices?"

"N-no." Crap. Lousy lie.

"Have you ever seen something that turned out not to be there?"

"No." That was better. Kind of.

Burton paused. "When you hear voices, do they tell you to do things?"

Sam bristled. "I told you I don't hear voices."

"Why do you set things on fire?"

Oh. "I have to," Sam said bluntly, looking away and up.

"Why do you have to?"

Sam sighed heavily. This was really going to do it. "Different reasons. It depends."

"What does it depend on?"

"The type of thing it is."

"Would you ever set fire to a cat?"

"No!"

"Or a car?"

Sam thought about it. "Uh. No."

"Or a house?"

"No."

The doctor's eyes found Sam's. "Or a person?"

Sam's eyes skittered away from Burton.

"Mark?"

"What?"

"Why set fire to a person?" Burton's tone and manner were unchanged. They might as well have been discussing the weather

Just say it, Sam told himself. Mark isn't real. Nothing you say counts.

"To, uh. To stop them."

"From…?"

"From coming back." Sam looked back at the shrink. He seemed totally unfazed.

"Coming back from where?"

Sam shook his head.

Burton nodded, as if this was what he had expected. He picked up his clipboard from the floor and checked his notes from earlier, but left the pencil where it was.

"You don't have an address in town?"

Sam shook his head again.

"Where have you been staying?"

"Um. Kind of, I'm kind of between places."

Burton paused, almost imperceptibly. "What have you been doing for money?"

'Hustling pool', Sam thought. His lips formed the word 'hustling', but then he changed his mind. Too late. He saw the look on Burton's face, though the doctor hid it quickly.

"Is there anyone we can call for you?"

Sam felt his eyes widen. "Why?"

"I think I'd like you to stay here for a few days. If there's someone who's going to be worried, if you're missing…"

Suppressing a smile, Sam said, "Yeah. Luke."