Dean and Sam got a hotel room, changed into their cheap suits, the ones Sam had convinced Dean to buy five years before, and went to the hospital, posing as FBI agents in order to talk to Dr. Fisher, Elizabeth Peabody's doctor. Fisher was a petite, middle-aged woman, with short, salt and pepper hair and silver-rimmed glasses that perched on the end of her nose. "What did you say your names were?" she asked the two young men standing in front of her desk.
"Agent Smith," Dean said. "This is Agent Jones." (Awfully commonplace names, Sam had said when Dean suggested them. Worked for the Men In Black, Dean had replied with a slight grin.) "We're here to ask Miss Peabody some questions about the murder."
Fisher led them down the hall towards Elizabeth's room. "You will have to be very gentle with her. She has been greatly traumatized. Because of her unique condition, Elizabeth can't feel any but the strongest emotions, and when she does…" Fisher shook her head sadly. "It can be very tragic."
"I can assure you," Sam said, casting a warning glance at Dean, "we will be sympathetic towards her. We don't intend to ask anything disturbing. We just want facts, that's all."
Dean asked, "Can you tell us more about her condition?"
Fisher nodded. "Until she was born, I'd always thought cases like hers were strictly hypothetical. See, she has a chemical imbalance in her frontal lobe, the portion of the brain that controls emotions, that prevents the synapses from firing under normal circumstances. It takes a large shock of some sort to produce enough chemicals to allow a reaction to occur that can be identified as emotion. When that happens, the burst of emotion is so great, and she is so unaccustomed to it, that she cannot handle it."
Sam nodded politely. Dean had the impression that his geeky, college-boy brother actually understood one or two words of what the doctor had said. Dean had, at least, picked up on the general gist of her message. Elizabeth had been born with some mental condition, and she couldn't feel anything unless it was strong enough to give a weaker person a heart attack, and then the poor girl couldn't handle it. "And that's what happened the other night?" asked Dean.
Fisher nodded.
"Is that why she's in the hospital?" inquired Sam.
"Yes. I want to monitor her condition until I can be sure that she is stable enough to be on her own."
"How long do you think that will take?" asked Sam.
"She's doing surprisingly well," Fisher said. "I'm planning on releasing her this afternoon."
Dean gave her a stunned look. "But it just happened a couple of days ago."
Fisher replied, "As I said, she's doing surprisingly well. She is as calm and placid as she normally is, resuming her daily routine, and I see no reason to imprison her here any longer than necessary." She stopped in front of a door. "What worries me is how she'll live after I discharge her."
"What do you mean?" asked Dean.
"The poor girl," Fisher said. "She's twenty-six years old, lived her entire life at home with her parents. After high school, she never went to college, never got any job experience. She devoted her entire life to her family, I think because she felt that she needed them. Now that they're gone, I believe she's shut off a part of herself in an effort to move on without them."
Sam swallowed hard and lowered his eyes, sympathizing with the young woman.
"She would have done anything to help them," Fisher continued. "If you want the truth, I don't think she's ready to leave. But, as she exhibits no physical reason not to leave, I think it would be unfair to keep her here.
"This is her room. If you're ready, we can go in."
Dean noticed how Sam's lips twitched as he thought about the girl's unusual circumstances. Sam looked up at his brother, took a deep breath, straightened up, and nodded.
Dean smiled at Fisher. "Okay."