Okie dokie here's the next chappie. The story's getting better, I promise. Hope you like it. Please R&R.
Chapter 8: - The Gentlest Whisper.
Dean walked out of the entrance and over to where Sam had been sat waiting impatiently in the Impala.
"Anything?" Sam asked, as he leant across the passenger seat and opened the door, leaning back as Dean slid in beside him.
"Nada," Dean sighed. "Saw nothing suspicious. The guy seemed like you regular kooky psychologist."
Sam pulled a face. "And?"
"And I'm going back for another session tomorrow," Dean said reddening.
Sam tried to hide the grin that was itching to light up his face. "Oh."
"Oh what?" Dean said, shoving his brother.
"Nothing," Sam smiled. "You finally figured out that you need a shrink," he added under his breath.
He ducked as Dean's hand flew at his head.
"You're a cheeky bastard, you know that! And anyway I don't need a shrink we need a lead."
Sam grinned as he lifted his hand and jammed the key into the ignition. "Whatever man."
The following day, Dean once again found himself sitting uncomfortably in Mr. Hyde's office. The room was even duller and more depressing than the day before, the rain cloaking the daylight. He sat alone, uneasy in the deafening silence that settled over the room, waiting for the psychologist.
He had spent half the night before wondering whether the demon would take the bait. He had to laugh at that. 'The bait.' He was the bait!
"Sorry I'm late," Mr. Hyde said as he entered the room, breaking into Dean's thoughts. "Another case," he said dismissively, elaborating no further.
Dragging a chair forward, he leant back into it and studied the younger man closely.
"You look tired. Rough night?"
Dean grinned, flashing his most charming knowing smile. "Yeah, good booze, good female company, you know."
Hyde grinned, nodding knowing nothing could be further from the truth. The man before him was as closed as a book. The early progress they had made the day before was all but a distant memory.
"So you said yesterday that you were afraid of not being able to protect your brother."
Dean cringed. "You don't beat around the bush do you," he said evasively, wishing he could forget what he had told the man before him. 'Why can't this bloody demon or whatever it was attack already,' he groaned inwardly. 'I don't feel like any chick flick moments today.'
"Would you care to elaborate," Mr. Hyde prompted him, his grey eyes carefully watching the younger man, looking for a window, a crack, anything to break past the cool collected façade.
"Not particularly," Dean retorted. "I don't do touchy feely."
"Emotions aren't touchy feely Dean."
"Yeah well," he replied, the tips of his ears turning pink. It was the first time someone had openly challenged him. Normally once he'd closed the gates, freezing up, no one, not even Sam would try to pry. It was an unspoken law between him and his brother; some things were best left unsaid. Sam had his secrets and he had his. It didn't do to dwell on things that couldn't be changed. 'Yet if this demon didn't come after him soon,' the voice of reason within him said, 'He might have to open the flood gates and release all the fears, emotions and dreams he had for so long suppressed, hidden, kept far away beneath the surface in order to survive, in order to draw the demon out.' The voice of stubborn pride within him tried to quash these unpleasant thoughts, though the niggling feeling within him would not be pushed aside.
Mr. Hyde watched Dean closely, intrigued by the confusion, emotion, bitterness and stubborn pride that all washed over his face. He watched as the cold detached glimmer in his eye was slowly replaced, the gates to this troubled young man opening barely a crack. Smiling to himself, he asked, "How old is your brother?"
"A few years younger than me," Dean replied distractedly, glancing down at the EMF scanner resting in his pocket, not seeing the reader jumping excitedly.
From behind the yellow floral screen that stood in the corner of the room, the demon appeared, the same malevolent smile playing across its lips as the day before. It sniffed the air hungrily, sensing the fear and conflicting emotions which swamped the room, the emotions of the doctor's new patient. Its yellowing teeth broke out into a grin as it breathed in the vulnerability which the young man so carefully tried to conceal beneath his proud carefree mask. The complex energy was electric on its tongue as it stuck it out on the air, feeding ravenously.
"Why do you feel you need to protect him?" Mr. Hyde continued.
"Didn't we already cover this yesterday," Dean said, shifting under the psychologist's gaze as he caught his eye.
"Yes, briefly, but I'd like you to talk about it some more."
"Why? I came to you with a fear of heights."
"We're here to talk about you. The truth," Hyde said with a smile. "You are so interested in everything else but the simple reason you're here."
As the two men talked on, the demon, from behind the curtain, reached its hands forwards impatiently, the energy filling the room in waves, almost too much for it to take. The thrill of desire crawled up its spine as the demon fiercely fought to keep control, grinning as it decided on its next meal.
Dean climbed in to the car an hour later looking flushed and disconcerted.
"You okay dude?" Sam asked, looking at his brother worriedly.
"I'm fine, just drive," Dean replied tartly, Sam feeling the sting of his words.
"That doctor getting to you," Sam smiled understandingly.
"I don't want to talk about it," Dean snapped, losing control of his well worn temper. He tried not to think of what he had stupidly told the psychologist to catch this demon. How he had felt responsible for Sam after their mother died and especially after Jess. Talking to the psychologist had had one effect on him though. He realised just how much he had come to lean on his brother over the last few months and couldn't bear the thought of losing him, especially with their father going AWOL. He was beginning to wish they hadn't just passed on this job, there were jobs worth fighting for and there were others when you just had to count your losses and split. But he had never walked out on a job, and deep down he knew that hell would freeze over before he quit this one.
Sam, pissed off with his coolness, turned the key in the ignition and slammed his foot on the accelerator, the wheels of the Impala screeching angrily against the tarmac.
"You look like shit," he muttered shortly, as they pulled up outside the motel.
"Charming," said Dean, as he pushed open the door and climbed out, not even bothering to comment on Sam's aggressive driving.
"I'm gonna go to the library. See if I can dig up anything. Why don't you get some sleep. Maybe then you'll be back to your charming old self."
Dean pulled a face as Sam leant across the car, chucking him the room key.
"Later," he shouted, as he slid back behind the wheel and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Dean staring after him.
Sighing wearily, he turned back to the motel and walked towards the room, jabbing the key in the lock as he reached it. Pushing the door open, and throwing the keys on the table, he flopped down thankfully on to the nearest bed, his body sinking into the comfortable mattress gratefully. Closing his eyes, he let out a relieved groan.
A muffled thud, too soft for him to notice, reverberated from within the bathroom. The door stood ajar. Through the gap, a figure shifted, its shadow silently gliding across the wall. Dean clueless, continued to breathe steadily as sleep crept across his body, the anger that had coursed through his veins after leaving the psychologist's mellowing as he shifted slightly on the bed.
He was beginning to hate this job with a passion. The not knowing what they were really dealing with, the fact that he had to see a psychologist, who made him doubt himself and cloud his judgement, and the fact that he had to talk about things he'd long ago vowed never to talk about. He hated it.
Sam might be more forthcoming with his emotions, but he sure as hell wasn't. He loved his brother and his brother loved him. They both knew it. It was an unspoken truth. Sam knew he'd always be there to back him up so he didn't see why he'd ever have to say those three little words or talk about them. He had been happy with the way things were, no girly chick flick moments, just a guy's acceptance.
Talking about things he wasn't even comfortable thinking about himself, was unbearable. He didn't want to deal with them so why should he. They were better left buried deep within him where he couldn't mull them over. His life was complicated enough without having to deal with his own issues and insecurities, if that's what they really were. He was a hunter and a brother. Everything else had to fall by the way side. It would only cloud his judgement and in their line of business that would be a fatal error and he couldn't, no, he wouldn't let that happen.
Speaking to Mr. Hyde was making him feel vulnerable, something he couldn't stand to be. The niggling feelings of guilt, bitterness and anger of years of uncertainty, hunting and abandonment would not be pushed away. He'd opened Pandora's Box and couldn't find the key to locking it all away again deep inside his heart.
He let out a hollow laugh. 'God if only Sammy could see me now,' he thought bitterly, his tough guy image faltering as it struggled against the vulnerability that threatened to engulf him.
From within the bathroom, the figure grinned as it sniffed the air full of complicated feelings. 'This is a good one,' it thought triumphantly. 'Finally someone worth my time.'
Gazing out of the gap between the half-opened door, the demon, a tall dominating and intimidating being, could see Dean lying alone on the bed at the far side of the room. Smiling that malevolent and evil smile, showing a mouthful of yellowing teeth, the demon tilted its nose upwards as waves of confusion swam upon the air.
Sensing a deep but steady fear from within the young man, he concentrated, filtering the air as he tried to decipher the cause. His grin grew in triumph as the demon whispered, "Ahh, afraid of not being able to see what's coming before its too late. Clever boy."
The demon, dressed in a long black coat, drew himself up to his full seven foot height and closed his cold grey eyes. Rocking slightly, his influence crept over Dean who didn't notice a thing, his mind open and vulnerable.
Crawling deep into his mind, feeling the torn and conflicted emotions with ravenous delight, he laid his gentle whispering words onto Dean's unwitting subconscious. Stroking and caressing it persuasively, the demon began its painstaking and destructive work.