The Dog was down the street one block from the hospital, and that was where Hendrickson took her for lunch. Doctor Smith had cleared the rest of her schedule for the day. When Emily had asked why, he had cast a look at the agent and the captain and said I have a hunch you wont be back for the next shift.

The Dog was hardly a far cry from the typical English pub. When Emily was a kid, the place had been called the Black Dog, but when the current owner bought the place from Trevor Hooley who couldn't get out of the building fast enough, he'd had it legally changed to the Mad Dog.

Note the fantastic leap of logic.

Either way, the Dog, whatever you wanted to call it, was a favourite to barflies, would-be karaoke stars, and, around world cup season, legions of soccer hoons. In short it was hardly the place a good girl was normally going to visit, even though you couldn't get a nicer bloke than Black Jack, the publican.

Emily would have liked to have worn her grey, all-business power suit, but earlier that day one of the other patients had vomited all over her and one of the interns during break, so she ended up turning up for their alfresco meeting in sneakers and tracksuit pants.

Captain Wandell cast her a look but didn't say anything. Emily wondered whether she slept in her khakis.

"Emily." Hendrickson gave her a smile that on anyone else would have looked quite pleasant, but on him just managed to look unsettling.

"Doctor Killarney." She said, sitting down. "While we are talking business, I'd like to keep it strictly professional."

"You think of all your cases as business?" An eyebrow rose and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.

"Don't you?"

He nodded in satisfaction. "Yes." He said. "I think you and I will get on just fine."

Emily's expression didn't flicker. "Agent Hendrickson." She said. "This exchange of information works both ways. If I make accessible to you all my notes and resources, I, and my superiors, expect the same from you."

The smile didn't fade, but I certainly became colder. "You are extremely presumptuous." He remarked.

"So are you." Emily shot back. "Should you have gone through the official channels and have him extradited to the US, you would have sidestepped all these hassles and might even be on the flight home right now." Unless there wasn't enough evidence for an extradition.

"Ah, you aren't here officially."

He blinked at her as if he was surprised she had put it together in one afternoon, but Emily had spent years listening to and memorising the insane yet complex delusions of many of Bethlam's patients, so she was used to quickly spotting patterns in people's behaviour.

"Doctor Killarney." This time it was the Captain that spoke. Her voice was low and husky and rough, as though all the femininity had dropped out of it. "Winchester is potentially lethal and should not be trusted. And no offence, but you're an idiot if you believe otherwise."

"No." Emily disagreed. "Samuel is mixed up, certainly. Potentially lethal? All of us are potentially something. Does that mean we all deserved to be locked up for what we might do?"

Captain Wandell lent forward. Emily could see the flecks of grey in her brown eyes. "My father is dead. I only found out through a friend of a friend. Care to take a guess why?"

"No." Emily said, a sinking feeling in her gut.

"Sam Winchester killed him. Murdered him in cold blood. In his own house. I advise not trying to defend him in front of me." Hendrickson had turned to her. His expression clearly said you didn't tell me that.

"It's admirable of you to try and support your… patients." It was easy to see that she was only inches away from saying 'lunatics'. "But you have very little idea what he's capable of."

"If that's true," Emily retorted. "Why not just take Samuel and leave? Why even bother with me?"

"Believe it or not, Doctor Killarney," The captain said. "We need you. You are the only person beside his brother that Winchester has reacted favourably to."

"You want a minder. So he doesn't attack you or slit his wrists when you leave him alone."

"Do we have your cooperation, Doctor?"

What could she do? Did she turn her back and leave him in the charge of these two… whatever they were? Or did she go?

To protect Sam.

It was night. All the lights were off, so it had to be. He closed his eyes.

The woman down the hall was crying. Screaming out against the monsters in the night. The sounds she made cut through his head like a knife, even though everyone didn't hear, or pretended not to.

They were all so loud. Screaming and sobbing and shrieking and cursing. He wanted to hit out, to get the doctors to shut them up, but then he would remember.

Only he could hear them. Well. Him. And the others.

The ones that would stare at him wide-eyed as he passed. The ones that would begin to mumble phrases of long-lost languages when he looked at them. The ones that knew.

There was power here, power that would never be realised. Power that warped and corrupted and tainted until there was nothing left but a shell, howling like a wolf. They were coming.

The door opened. There was the shadow of the orderly before a smaller, lither figure slipped in.

"Doctor Killarney." He said. "Emily."

"Samuel." She said. The night guard scowled behind her and she waved him off. "I need to talk to you."

"Sure."

She sat on her haunches as the door closed behind her. "We're going away on a little trip."

"I haven't been five for a long time, you know."

Emily smiled, and sat down in a more comfortable position on the floor. "Hadta be sure what mood you were in." Anxiousness peeled off the English veneer in her voice and brought out her native accent.

"Ah." He said. "When?"

"Tomorrow evening. We'll be flying."

"They were anticipating you saying yes."

"I believe so."

"Who?"

"A man named Victor Hendrickson." She said. "And an army captain. From America."

Sam had been half-expecting to hear Hendrickson's name, but it did come as a surprise to hear he had a female army officer with him. Not much of a surprise, as the drug-of-the-week had cut the edge off most of his immediate sensations and emotions.

"Who?"

"Wandell. Captain Sally Wandell."

She watched as he closed his eyes. Lent back, unmoving. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine." He said. "Everything's fine."

A new doctor came to collect him the next evening. He had a wide, friendly grin and looked so familiar for some reason Sam couldn't really place. He guided him down to another small, secure room to wait for Emily and the officer that would be sent to chaperone them.

Coming, they were coming.

"How you been, Sam?" The doctor asked.

"About the same." He replied. Something in the other man's tone was driving him crazy. "I'm sure you can go now."

"Sorry, kid. Have to wait until the good Doctor is here."

And it wasn't long before Doctor Killarney arrived, looking flustered and bothered. "Who are you?" She snapped at the other doctor.

"Doctor Steinhardt." He answered, offering her his hand. "Robbie Steinhardt."

"Isn't that the lead vocalist from Kansas?"

"Erm, yes. Yes it is."

"Sorry." Emily reached out to shake his hand. "I had a friend once called Marty McFly. Drove him half-mad."

Doctor Steinhardt smiled. "That's fine. You can take it from her, Doctor Killarney, or do you need-?"

"No, I'll be fine, thank you." They both watched him walk away. Well, saunter.

"Have you seen him before?"

"Must be new."

"A newbie? Do people really wake up in the morning and say, 'hey, I want to work with crazy guys'?"

She cast a look at him. "Are you always this talkative at ten o'clock at night?"

"I suppose I'm nervous. I remember… I know what they want me for."

"Is that so?" Interest peaked; Emily pulled out a chair and sat opposite him. His wrists had been bound together, so he wasn't likely to attack. "Care to let me in on the big secret, then?"

Samuel didn't say anything, simply looked suspicious. "This time there are no voice recorders or video cameras." The doctor said. "There's only you and me. What you tell me in confidence can't be used against you. It's time to tell someone. Who are you?"

He looked up at her with those hollow, bewitching eyes, begging her to listen, to not pass judgement.

"I am Sam Winchester." He started. "I was born May 2, 1983, second son to John and Mary Winchester. My brother is called Dean. And when I was six months old my mother died. She burned up on the ceiling of my bedroom. Murdered. By a demon."

Emily opened her mouth to argue. To point out that logically these beasts did not exist. But she stopped.

"My dad, he… he became obsessed with catching the thing that killed her. He took me and my brother on the road, and we practically raised ourselves. Dad trained us. He trained us to hunt down evil and kill it."

"You mean, like… mass murderers and rapists?"

He gave a short bark of laughter. "Hell, we run into one of those and it's a slow week. I'm talking about real evil. Demons and every other sick son of a bitch out there. Vampires, werewolves, demonic possessions, strange deaths and crop failures. You name it, we've seen it. This probably sounds completely insane to you."

"Actually." Emily paused for a moment, surprised by the first thought to come to her head. She wondered whether she should repeat it aloud. "Actually, it explains quite a lot."

"Excuse me?"

Emily blushed. "My grandmother was as Catholic as they could get. But I suppose if you believe in angels, God's messengers, then there's going to be a nemesis. An antichrist." She shook her head. "Damn, listen to me. I sound like-"

"One of us?" He offered.

"I wasn't going to say that." Emily said sternly.

"You're Catholic?"

"What? Did you expect all Catholics to be Bible-bashing, 'death-to-the-witches' types?"

"I hardly expected a pro-demon type."

"A joke. There's hope for you yet."

"Now you're just having a laugh. I'll just drop it."

"No." She said. "I'm not making fun of you. Tell me more. Tell me about Hendrickson and Wandell. Tell me about your brother."

"Dean always protected me." His voice broke. "I couldn't protect him."

"What happened?"

"I think… I think I killed him."

Emily stopped, mouth open. "What? No, that can't- you're not-"

"You don't think I'm capable of it?" He smiled sadly. "I'm a hunter. Hunt equals kill, no matter how you coat it. I am a murderer."

Emily's heart was beating fast in her chest. She couldn't bring herself to believe… but it explained so much… Never buy into a patient's delusion, her supervisors had always warned her. Now it had happened. She had finally snapped.

"Samuel, the only evil that exists in this world is men and the things men do."

"No. It's real and it's dangerous."

"I don't believe you."

"Of course you don't." She door opened and in came two figures in their long white coats. "You get paid not to believe him. To believe any of them."

"Doctor Osborne." Emily said. "Doctor Lyons. What are you-?" And then she saw their eyes. Black. Completely black. Doctor Lyons smiled.

"All that talking." She said. "Time for some screaming."