You need to come with me we have a lot to talk about"

Those were the last word Dr. Campbell said as the elevator doors slipped closed. Instantly my mind was off; how old was this elevator, were they always this small, if the cable broke would we even have time to know, would they be able to identify us as two separate people and not just one mass of flesh. God I hope they would find all of us. I would hate to be stuck haunting this place. God I need to stop thinking like him. There are no such things as ghosts.

I'm sure of it.

Or else there wouldn't be that stupid show, Ghostfacers, where they practically piss themselves at the slightest breeze.

So no, ghosts do not exist.

"So how has Dean been with your other patients?"

"Fine," I half lied, I wasn't going to tell her about the 'exorcism' of Meg Master, "a few bumps but that is to be expected."

"True, true."

Silence feel slowly over the small slow moving car. It seemed to fall like a great bird of prey, both weighing the car down and tearing at me with it claws. Dr Campbell coughed and I could feel her eyes moving over me in a slow calculating way. She shifted in the silent car, the way her movements worked from the bottoms of her feet through her whole body and out the top of her head was so fluid it was almost feline. She can tell that I'm lying, I'm sure that she can. I bristle uncomfortably until the door pings open and the smell of hardwood and leather rush in to my nose.

"These are the administrative offices."

"Oh."

"We will be meeting Dr. Adler in the conference room, he has a board meeting."

The room she directed me into was a shocking upgrade from the already high class exterior of the halls. It was a pristine white room, with everything trimmed in gold or topped with what looked like marble. It looked more like the green room for a god then something that should have been used for meetings. The only thing that spoke of psychology were the paintings that it had within the golden frames. On one wall was The Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh, on the opposite was The Temptation of St. Anthony; but it was the back wall that caught my attention the most. It took up nearly the whole wall and if was for the two inches of gold trim or white wall, I would have sworn they has The Last Judgement painted on the wall.

"Zachariah is quite proud of that." Dr. Campbell noticed my curiosity.

"He painted it?"

"Oh god no, he managed to find a painted print of it so large." She smiled brightly, "Although he says it lacks the depth of the actual painting."

"Wouldn't know."

I muttered disinterestedly, there was already a soft scrap to punctuate my statement and then Dr. Campbell's voice rose up again, just as warm as before, "Please take a seat, I'd like to get talking about John out of the way."

"Thank you," I took a seat and tried to read anything in her impassible face, "It was why I came after all, he seemed perfectly fine when I came to see Dean before his transfer."

"Because he was."

"Then what happened."

"Surely by now you have noticed the effect he has on other people. You don't have to tell me I'm right, you and I both know I am. He affects those he comes in contact with, as I'm sure John demonstrated, some people it appears a susceptible to his delusion."

"You mean like metal illness as an actual sickness."

"Not quite, we believe that he is so compelling that he can cause changes in people predisposed to a psychotic break."

"But then what about John?"

"We've been looking into his history, to try and find any precursors."

"And did you find any?"

"Not one."

"Kinda blows your predisposition idea out of the water."

Mary smiled softly; it was the kind of half smile reserved by doctors for giving bad news, "It is unfortunate because we are unable to perform anymore evaluations."

Before I could say anything about here meaning, she broke into an explanation of how a few days after Dean was transferred over to my custody John's mental state began to mimic Dean's in most aspects except the bringing in of others to the delusions. For all intentions John had become the hunter and father of his former patient's delusions. They tried everything that could think of to undo what was happening, but it wasn't like dean or others with a disconnect from reality. John didn't slowly slip, it was like one minute he was John Wesson the lovable is a bit bumbling doctor. The next he was trying to chop a co-workers head off because he saw them as a vampire.

"So what happened?"

Mary's beautiful face went grim, "We had to sedate him and then a few weeks ago he slipped into a coma, he's practically brain dead."

"Practically?"

"He reacts to some stimulus but no matter what the reaction is always pain." A male voice spoke from behind me; its tones were a mix of pompous and compassionate. In other words, he sounded like a dick with wings.

"Hello Zachariah, this is Doctor James Novak."

"James, this is Doctor Zachariah Adler."

I stood up and slowly took in the man; I imagine to Mary it was something like a Texas stand off in those John Wayne movies. He was tall, defiantly taller then myself but I think Sam probably still had him; he was going bald too but he was obviously vain. He was in a suit, a nice one which he obviously keeps clean and well managed. A thought flickered across my mind; he looked exactly like the adviser to the mayor in that Ghostbusters movie.

The second one.

Ya know the one with painting and the marching lady liberty?

Seriously?

Anyway, I stuck out my hand and looked at him expectantly. Zachariah's pale blue eyes looked me over and then flickered down to my outstretched hand; I swear he gave it a look like you give something to find particularly foul. Like road kill or Sarah Jessica Parker. Eventually he gripped my hand and squeezed as hard as he could; in a "this town ain't big enough for the two of us" kind of why. When he finally let go, I caught relief wash over Mary's features.

"So James how is Dean?"

"He's fine I guess."

The man's tone was still patronizing, "That's good, making any progresses."

"I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I've picked up on something about Dean that isn't in his wall transcripts or anything."

This caught both of their attention, "Oh?"

"Yeah that what caused me to reach out to John, I wanted to ask if he noticed anything."

"I might be able to answer your question," Mary offered softly.

"Did Dean ever display a sexual attraction towards any of the character in his delusions?"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"I don't believe talking about Dean's sexual appetites is going to be a very productive conversation." Zachariah snapped suddenly, "We are here to talk about your methods for treating him. I thought it would be good to share our rare, one time success."

"Success? But John's notes don't-"

"Yes I would think they wouldn't, Dean reverted back to his delusions after about six hours of lucidness. John considered it a failure"

That was like John, he was almost as meticulous with notes as I am, "How?"

"That's the thing that we don't get, " Mary offered, "We just basically forced him to confront reality, I mean we were pretty harsh about it but it work."

"You made him confront reality?"

"All of that information is included with the copy of the interviews we did during his lucid period," Zachariah stood and inspected his perfect suit for any wrinkles; he seemed done with me, which was fine I was pretty much done with him. He turned his attention to Mary, "I want to speak with you after you show James here out."

"Of course." She smiled to hide the fact that she was biting her tongue.

The rest of my walk out of the hospital was painfully stiff. First down to her office to pick up a DVD then back to the elevator. Then back to the main lobby, the only thing that didn't seem rehearsed was when she pulled me a side and slipped a piece of paper into my hand. I suddenly felt both confused and scared, like the channel on the tv had change but the characters were the same.

"This was in John's hand when we found him," Mary whispered, "Zachariah didn't want me giving it to you."

As I began to drive home I let myself become lost in the hum of the tires moving over the asphalt and the almost inaudible din that came from my speakers. I turned it up slightly bringing the muddled murmurs into something more like hushed whispers. For some that wouldn't make a difference for me it's enough. It's enough to keep my mind busy but not enough to distract me from what Mary had handed me.

I went to Missouri and found the truth.

I turned off of the highway, the exit for Lawrence welcoming me in with open arms. This was insane and probably not even likely, I mean come on John lost his fricken mind and I'm follow a note scribbled in sharpie on a piece of toilet. Really good job Jimmy; such a good way to prove your own mental stability. Go follow the musings of a mad man.

There were many things that I expected to see when I managed to find the home. Neon light, a big painting of a hand with an eye in the palm; heck maybe even some extra cats but there wasn't any of that. Hell the house looked like something pulled out of one of those ABC family specials. You know, the ones that are more teaching tool then entertainment.

With well practiced moved, I slid my baby into park and hopped out of the car. I listened to her purr hotly as she attempted to cool. I straightened my tie and walked across the lawn. As I mounted the stairs to the front door, two voice rose from inside the house and grew louder and louder by the second. One voice sounded sweet and bubbly, like you would imagine a fairy godmothers. The other sounded wet with tears.

"Don't worry about your husband my dear; he's still madly in love with you."

"Thank you, Missouri, thank you."

The wooden door swung inward as I went to knock and I couldn't help shifting like the kid who got his hand caught in the cookie jar. Much to my relief the women looked just as unnerved by my being there as I was. They mush have known that I heard at least part of their conversation. The smaller woman ducked her head and slipped off the porch, when she was completely out of my line of sight the sweet voice rose up again.

"Poor woman, he fucking the gardener."

I turned around and tried to frame my question properly, I mean John's note's never mention that she was African American.

Oh don't give me that look.

You've been there too.

I finally manage to get out, "Are you Ms. Mosley?

"I was wondering when you were going to get here."

"Excuse me?"

She turned away and led me back into her home, "You are the new doctor right?"

"Yes, how did you."

"Boy, just come in here."

I wanted to assume this was where she held her business but so far nothing about the woman struck me as typical. What I did notice however was that every single picture I had pasted up until this room had Dean in it. Some of them when he was much younger up until probably before he had his break down, I was broken from my thoughts when Ms. Mosely made a small noise in the back of her throat.

I had forgotten to introduced myself, "I'm Doctor Ja-"

"James Novak." She finished plainly, "sit please."

"How did you?"

"Boy you come into a psychic's house and are surprised to find she isn't a sham? And if you put your feet up on my coffee table I'll break em with my spoon"

I shifted uncomfortably and made sure my feet were firmly on the floor, there was something behind her voice that spoke the truth. My mind flickered back to the woman who had been leaving her house.

"You say you have power but lied to her."

"Most people don't come to me for the truth, they come for comfort." Her warm smile faltered slightly, "So which are you here for?"

"I came to talk to you about your son, Dean."

"Ah so the truth is what you seek."

"I guess so." I said lamely.

"The truth is, Dean hasn't been my son for quite sometime. he's been John Winchester's."

"But his father."

"Boy I don't mean the real one; I thought you'd have sense in your head. I know he's dead but Dean." She paused for a moment, "when he looks at me know, he doesn't look at me with the eyes of a son."

I sat on there on her old sagging couch, silent and thinking about what she said. I could imagine, well no I couldn't really imagine but I could think what I must be like for her. To see someone you love, someone you have raised no longer recognize you. I think it would kill me, to see the love of my life no longer recognize me. To treat me as a stranger. Course I think I'd have to experience the love of my life first.

"You love him, don't you?"

"What?"

"It's okay I could tell when you walked in. Even before Dean's mind slipped, everyone loved him. They want to be around him. I used to say he was like a mini sun. Giving light and warm to everyone around him, he liked that."

I couldn't help but smile at the image, "I bet."

My phone rang violently in my pocket, interrupting the nostalgic mood. I pull it out with out checking to see who it was I pressed the offending plastic to my ear. Though I know Missouri couldn't hear any of the conversation I knew it wasn't really necessary. Every emotion was playing across my face and her soft features did the best they could to mimic them. I was pissed that they had called cause really they couldn't hold down the fort for two days. Then shock and fear crossed over my face. I know in some weird way, smugness worked across my lips but instantly I felt horrible for it.

As much as I hated Albert.

And god did I hate him.

I didn't want him to go out like that. I mean really to think about it; it must have been a release for him, by taking that much adrenaline he took his heart out. But still maybe he was beyond saving if he managed to do that too himself. I looked up from my lap, the phone laying there after the call had ended, I tried to think of something to say.

"There has been an incident on my ward. They need me."

"What kind of incident?"

"A death," I stood up from the couch, "Oh one last thing, John Wesson wrote down 'I went to Missouri and found the truth'. Does that mean anything to you?"

"John came and visited me once, just like you. Stood right were you are standing now and asked me if there was anything I needed to tell him."

I pressed, the thoughts of my ward pushed aside, "And?"

"I told him the truth that he would have to destroy himself to save him. To save my Dean it would mean the end of him." She turned her brown eyes towards me, sadness making her gaze heavy, "Just like it will, you."

A/N: And now the plot begins to turn. Please Review.

- WordDemon

PS - if you need a more daily dose of my sense of humor or just wanna expand your vocabulary go to "365 day of Winchester" in my profile.