so, sorry about the long delay, my dang computer fried and needless to say it was a really long time before i got most of the kinks worked out...just trying to get all my stories back now which has been a real pain, but I am slowly finding them all...but anywho...thanks again for reading and for all the great reviews!! Bambers;)

Chapter Seven

"So, Dean, would you say that you and your brother Sam had a normal childhood?" Doctor Warner asked as he glanced over the file on his desk, then without lifting his head, glanced up at him through lowered lashes.

"I can honestly say that we did a lot of really interesting things when we were kids." Dean smirked, failing to mention that most of those things involved hunting and killing every kind of creature imaginable. "Traveled a lot, did some hunting . . . my Dad always loved to hunt, an' wanted to make sure we knew how to handle a gun properly."

"That's a bit of a stretch, Dean," Dean's doublewalker said with a laugh as he leaned against the windowsill and causally crossed his arms. "Why don't you tell him exactly what you an' Dad like to hunt. I'm sure he'll get a real kick out of it."

"An' you and your father are close?" The Doctor went on to say, completely oblivious of the doublewalker in the room.

"Oh, that's a good question, Dean . . . how close are we with dear ol' Dad? Cause for some damn reason I don't recall gettin' a birthday card this year."

Dean forced a fake smile, gritting his teeth as he looked to the doublewalker then refocused his attention on Doctor Warner, trying his damnedest to forget the doppelgänger was in the same room as them. "Course we are," Dean muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he tugged against the straitjacket that held his arms firmly around his stomach. Straining his leg muscles, he tried to loosen the padded cuffs around his ankles that held him prisoner in the chair, to no avail. "Are these ankle cuffs really necessary?" he asked, hoping that the doctor would see that he posed no threat and would remove them. "It's not like I'm going anywhere in a straitjacket."

"I'm sorry, Dean, but you physically assaulted one of my staff members, so I must take precautions to ensure it doesn't happen again." Although he cast an apologetic look in Dean's direction, Dean noticed the mirthful glint in the man's dark eyes. If Dean wasn't mistaken, it almost seemed to him as if the older man enjoyed wielding his position of power over him. "Now let's get back to talking about your father. How often do you visit with him, and when you do, do you argue a lot?"

"He's been away for a while," Dean reluctantly admitted. In truth, he hadn't heard from his father in months except for the text coordinates to the Roosevelt Asylum, but he wasn't about to tell the psychiatrist that much information about his family life. "An' every family has their arguments," he added as the doctor quirked a brow in clear disbelief, "but for the most part we get along just fine."

"Except for the part where they both left us. Right, Dean?" The doublewalker slid away from his perch and came to stand directly behind Dean's chair. Gripping a hold of Dean's shoulders, he leaned in and taunted, "Why don't you tell him how we busted our ass, bending over backwards for them, an' they jus' left us the first chance they got. I'm sure he'd loved to hear that cause head-shrinks just live for that kinda shit."

"Why don't you shut the hell up," Dean murmured through clenched teeth, the fake smile never leaving his face.

"Excuse me?" Doctor Warner narrowed his beady little eyes on Dean, and then began writing something in his file.

"I didn't say anything."

"Sorry, I could've sworn you did . . . So, where were we." He tapped his finger against his temple as if trying to recall what he had been talking about before Dean's sudden outburst, and then smiled. "Ahhh yes, you an' your family argued." Doctor Warner stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I can imagine things got quite heated at times. After all, I have seen how well both you an' your brother handle confrontation of any sorts."

If Dean didn't know any better, he could've sworn the older man was baiting him, trying to make him lose his temper so he would be justified in having Dean committed against his own will. "No more so than any other family, I would imagine. Like I said, we all loved to hunt an' took out our aggressions there."

"Wow, he's really good, Dean." The doublewalker chuckled as he clapped Dean on the back. "Bare your soul to him . . . tell him how we never got that pony we wanted when we were six, an' that's the reason we're so screwed up today."

"I never wanted a pony." Dean mumbled as he eyed his exact twin, consciously willing him to disappear before the doppelgänger made him appear as crazy as Doctor Warner thought him to be.

"Awww . . . sure we did, Dean. What little kid doesn't want a pony. Although it really doesn't matter anyway cause Sammy would've whined about it endlessly. Then he would've given us that sad little puppy dog look he always uses to get us to do what he wants, an' we would have given our pony to him . . . Sam really sucks, you know that, right?"

"So then what you're saying is that you have a lot of pent up anger building inside of you, an' the only way to release it is by using a deadly weapon?" the doctor went on to say as if he hadn't heard Dean mention that he didn't want a pony. Yet from the way he had scrawled something more down in his notes, Dean was certain he hadn't missed the comment.

"I didn't say that," Dean was quick to defend, feeling as if Doctor Warner was backing him into a corner, and felt his anger start to boil just below the surface of his outwardly calm exterior. "All I said was that we liked to hunt."

"Monsters . . . you like to hunt monsters," the doppelgänger once again cut in on the conversation, garnering a glare from Dean. "Just say it, dude . . . he looks like an open-minded kinda guy, I'm sure he'll find nothin' at all strange about it."

"But you also like to fight." Doctor Warner made a sweeping gesture around Dean's face, to all the cuts and bruises he had gotten while he was at the Roosevelt Asylum with Sam. "An' apparently so does Sam because his face looks about as bad as yours. Not to mention the older gentleman you brought in here the night Sam was admitted for observation. Which one of you beat him up?"

"You got it all wrong, neither of us ever laid a finger on Bobby."

"So you admit to beating the hell out of each other then?" Doctor Warner pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose as he looked to Dean, waiting for a response.

"I'm not admitting anything." Dean's voice rose in anger and frustration. Between the doctor's pointed questions and his doubles's taunts, he was quickly losing his patience. He shifted restlessly in his seat as he tried in vain to free himself from the restraints, wanting nothing more at the moment than to strangle the life out the doppelgänger.

"Tell him Sam threw the first punch an' we were just defending ourselves." His twin chuckled as he moved away from Dean to wander freely about the office. "He already thinks Sammy's out of his freakin' mind anyway. So why not do something a little different this time around an' try an' save ourself instead of always putting Sam first?"

"Jus' shut the hell up," Dean growled as he watched the doublewalker take a seat on the couch and prop his feet up on the coffee table.

"I'm just trying to help you, Dean," the doctor interjected, apparently believing the comment was meant for him. Eying Dean intently, Dr Warner leaned forward, rested his forearms on the desk and laced his fingers together. "And in my professional opinion, I do believe you are in desperate need of psychiatric care." As he continued to watch Dean, waiting for some sort of reaction to his remark, he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a syringe. "I would be remiss in my duties of Chief of Psychiatric Medicine if I didn't recommend that you be admitted for further evaluation. Yet, I don't necessarily believe this hospital setting is the right kind of atmosphere to suit your own personal mental health care issues."

"What's that supposed to me?" Dean asked, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he watched the doctor pull out a small vial of liquid from his desk drawer and fill the syringe.

"I've determined that you need more intensive therapy that only I can offer you. It's an experimental program," he went on to say as he pushed back his chair and rose to stand, "but one that I think will be very effective in your case."

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Dean struggled against his restraints as the doctor walked toward him with needle in hand.

"Something's not right about that guy, Dean, get the hell out of that chair now," the doublewalker ordered, his earlier amusement over the situation now gone as concern clearly shaded his tone. He sprang to his feet, and rushed to Dean's side. "Damn it, get your ass up," he hissed as he struggled uselessly against Dean's restraints.

"Maybe if you'd help me jus' a little I could," Dean snapped as he kicked out against the cuffs wrapped firmly around his ankles.

"What part of me bein' a demon of your subconscious mind weren't you gettin'?" the doublewalker stood back, and raised a brow as he stared at Dean questioningly. "I mean, if I could've gotten us out of here, don't you think we'd be gone by now?"

"I am here to help you, Dean," Doctor Warner assured as he lowered his hand to administer the sedative. "I can make all your anger and pain go away."

"Get the hell away from me, you sonuvabitch," Dean snarled as he kicked and bucked in his chair.

"See, all this anger and aggression is what I'm referring to," the doctor said as he jabbed the needle into Dean's neck, and squeezed the plunger. "Now just relax and let the sedative do its job. And when you wake up, we can begin working on making you all better."

"Don't you dare listen to him, Dean," the doublewalker hissed as he slapped Dean hard across the face, "you stay the hell awake. You hear me?"

"D-damn it, I-I'm tr-tryin'," Dean muttered, feeling as if his tongue was thick and useless as he tried to speak. Everything shifted in and out of focus as his eyelids fluttered open and closed as the strong sedative worked its way through his system.

"If we don't fight against this, we're gonna die, Dean," his double warned, overwhelming fear now evident in his voice. "I'm a doppelgänger, for God sake, an' everything we know about my kind says if we don't get out of this now, we're gonna die. So damn it, you fight this."

Hearing this, Dean redoubled his efforts to break free from his bonds, but the more he fought against the straitjacket, the quicker his strength left him. "J-Jus' h-help m-me a lil'," he mumbled as his head lolled to the side and his eyes closed.

"I'm sorry, I can't." As Dean quickly lost consciousness, the doublewalker faded away.

"Don't worry, Dean," the doctor patted him on the shoulder in what he would deem a comforting manner, "I intend to help you and your brother."