Here's chappie 7. I hope you like it. Please R&R.

Chapter 7:- FUBAR.

The following day, Dean made the phone call to the hospital to see a psychologist. Agreeing on a slot for the same afternoon, Sam drove him apprehensively to the front doors.

The pair looked at each other, Dean trying to hide the feeling of doubt that was crawling up his spine, Sam pretending not to notice how his brother kept snatching sideways glances at the building before them.

"I'll see you in an hour then," Sam smiled, trying to force a carefree attitude to his voice.

"Yeah," Dean muttered, as he forced open the passenger side door. "Wish me luck."

Sam smiled. "You don't need luck. You're screwed up enough already."

Dean's expression made Sam laugh as numerous emotions passed over his face. He didn't know whether to be proud or shocked that his brother thought he was emotionally FUBAR'ed. Considering their lives, he thought they'd turned out pretty well.

Dean leaned hard against Mr. Hyde's door, slowly pushing it open.

"Hi Mr-"

"Cleavedon."

"Would you like to take a seat."

The psychologist, a balding man in his late fifties, ushered Dean towards a seat in front of his own.

Dean couldn't help noticing the clinical antiseptic smell that seemed to seep through the entire hospital. 'From now on, I hate hospitals,' he thought making a mental note as his nose wrinkled in disgust.

He sat down, fidgeting uncomfortably under the older man's penetrative gaze. 'Now I know what being in a fish bowl feels like,' he thought, grimacing as his eyes flitted round the room nervously, taking in the obligatory beige décor that could be found in every office in the entire world. The old mahogany furniture, he noticed, had seen better days.

"There's no need to be nervous young man," Mr. Hyde uttered, breaking into his quiet reverie. "We can take things as slowly as you like."

Dean cringed inwardly at the condescending tone he could hear hidden poorly beneath the pseudo politeness the man was trying to exude.

He turned his eyes on the man, looking intently at him, taking in his smart blue suit, the tired wrinkles round his eyes and mouth and the remnants of a once full head of hair, growing in white tufts sticking out at odd angles from behind his ears.

Dean smiled with embarrassment as the man made direct eye contact.

"Pretty drab office you got here," Dean said, forcing himself to fill the awkward silence.

"Never really thought about it," Mr. Hyde replied, gazing at him intently making Dean shift uncomfortably again.

'Maybe I should have let Sam do this,' he thought inwardly, as he stole a glance at the man in front of him. 'This is more his forte.'

So you been busy lately," he tried, fishing for a conversation starter.

"So so," Hyde replied. "But we aren't here to talk about me. I want to know about you."

Dean laughed nervously, his cheeks flushing. "Ahh well …"

"Let's see if I can help. Where are you from?"

Dean looked at him, his brow furrowing. "I move around a lot. I'm not really from one specific place."

"Okay, do you have any family?"

Dean looked down at the floor awkwardly, wondering how best to answer this question without revealing anything he wanted to keep hidden. He decided on the truth, well almost.

"Yeah, I've got a younger brother."

"No parents?"

Dean smiled weakly. He hated tricky questions. "Umm my mother died when I was young. My dad's not really in the picture right now."

"Tell me about them."

Dean, laughing uncomfortably, looked round desperately for a change of subject. Sliding off his seat, he walked towards the window. The sunshine hit his tired face, the cuts and bruises standing in sharp contrast with his pale skin.

Picking up a photograph off the window sill, he looked back at the psychologist. "This your family?"

"Yes," Mr. Hyde said, his voice calm.

"Nice. You live in one of those houses with their perfectly manicured lawns?" he continued, taking in the full picture.

"Yes, well I wouldn't call them perfectly manicured, but I guess they're not exactly dying."

Dean smiled as he looked out of the window and over the parking lot, trying to make out the Impala.

"Mr. Cleavedon, would you mind taking a seat."

Dean, dragging his eyes away from the many cars, grudgingly walked back to the empty chair and flopped down.

"You don't seem to like talking about your family. Are you normally so reserved?"

Dean looked at him. "There's not much to say."

"Is there some underlying issue that makes you so defensive about talking to me?"

"Look I came here cos I needed help with my phobia. I didn't come to talk about my family," Dean said sharply.

Mr. Hyde didn't seem to react at all to Dean's rising frustration. "What do you fear Mr. Cleavedon?"

"Dean," Dean muttered. "My name's Dean."

"Well Dean?"

"I'm terrified of heights," Dean said, feeling for the first time in control of the conversation. "I can't stand emm. I get vertigo every time I climb the stairs."

"You seemed okay when you were looking out of the window," the elder man smiled, a twinkle in his eye that Dean couldn't quite read.

"Yeah well …" Dean stammered, cursing himself for being so stupid.

"Why don't you tell me the truth Dean," he continued, gazing deeply into the young man's eyes making Dean wish he was anywhere else but here.

"I am," Dean tried, knowing the psychologist wasn't buying it. Instead, he continued to take notes and observations making Dean feel uneasy. He hated this. Not knowing whether he'd been discovered, whether the man before him could tell the real reason he was here, could tell what he really felt behind the macho cocky façade, and see the side deep within him that he desperately tried to drown.

"I-" he tried to think.

"Tell me something true. Something real. Something perhaps about your family."

"There's not much to say," Dean muttered uneasily.

"Anything will do."

"I would do anything to protect my brother," Dean said, looking earnestly at him.

The psychologist smiled. "Now I believe you. That's the first real thing you've said."

Dean sighed in relief as the psychologist seemed satisfied.

"Why do you think your brother needs protecting?" he continued, catching Dean off guard. He watched the reaction and change in facial expression his words gouged. He noticed a sadness creeping into the young man's eye.

"Cos he's my little brother."

"And-" Hyde smiled, knowing he was still holding back.

"Because ever since we were kids I've looked after him. He's my family. I'm afraid of not being there to protect him. Of not being able to see what's coming before its too late. Of failing him."

Dean stopped realising what he'd done. Shutting his mouth, he rearranged his cocky façade and stared around the room looking intently for a distraction.

"This place is so depressing," he said cheerily, though it wasn't reflected in his eyes. "You should get some creeping plants or something. Makes a guy feel miserable."

Mr. Hyde simply smiled, watching the young man lock the gates that caged his emotions, drawing down the barrier between them. Looking down at his watch, he smiled. "Time's up. I think we should continue this tomorrow. We're making good progress. How does two o'clock tomorrow afternoon sound?"

Dean sighed inwardly, but nodded his agreement. If the demon didn't take the bait today, he'd have to go through all this again tomorrow. He needed a drink, a stiff drink.

He stood to leave.

"Dean, you know you don't always have to pretend to be the devil-may-care older brother."

"Course I do. It's my job," he replied lightly.

The older man smiled as the younger turned to leave, slowly closing the door behind him.

From behind a screen that shielded the corner of the room, a dark shadow let out a malevolent grin.