DISCLAIMER
Supernatural belongs to the WB, but the psychiatrist is mine. Story deals with cutting, and the only thing I know about it is what I've seen on "Higher Ground" and a movie called "Secret Cutting". Anyone or anything you don't recognize is mine.
In town, Dean had found a local bar.
"What can I get ya?" the bartender asked.
"Scotch. On the rocks," Dean replied.
"Heavy drinker," the bartender noted.
"Rough day," Dean responded. The drink was quickly made. As he sipped the drink, the man looked around. Presently, a woman came up.
"Hi," she greeted.
"Hel-lo, gorgeous," Dean flirted. She laughed.
"Well, glad to see the feeling's mutual," she flirted back. He laughed.
"I'm Carrie," she said.
"Dean," he introduced himself.
"So Dean...what brings you here?" she asked.
"Well, I'm new in town, and I've gotta say I'm a little concerned," Dean answered.
"Why?" Carrie wondered.
"Well, just as me and my brother were drivin' up, we saw a couple of cop cars in front of the psychiatrist's office," Dean stated.
"Again?" Carrie questioned.
"'Again'? What do you mean 'again'?" Dean questioned.
"Last week, the cops found a kid in the psychiatrist's office. Apparently, he had committed suicide," Carrie replied.
"Suicide? Man, that's awful," Dean sympathized.
"But you know, there's been talk that maybe his death wasn't a suicide," Carrie continued in a conspirital whisper.
"Why would people say that?" Dean wondered.
"No one's supposed to know this, but apparently, the ME found some kind of burn marks on his arms," Carrie told him.
"Now, how'd you find that out?" Dean wondered.
"I---snuck in," Carrie admitted with a guilty giggle.
"Did ya now?" Dean asked with interest. Meanwhile, back at the motel, Sam had struck out. He gave a growl of frustrion as he ran his fingers through his hair. Great! Just great! Why can't I ever get a break? he wondered angrily. With another growl, Sam stood up and stomped over to the bed where his duffel lay and unzipped it. He rummaged around for a while until he found the knife he had use previously. Then, he went into the bathroom, rolled up his left sleeve, and let the blade sink through his flesh. He set his jaw, but couldn't help the small grunt of pain that escaped. Then, he sank to the floor and sobbed.