POV: Psychiatrist (Thomas Andrews, MD)

I looked at the patient chart and sighed. Next appointment was pair of fighting siblings. Shocker. Looks like today would be another painfully slow one. I continued to read through the chart—it was short. No address, no phone numbers, no occupations, nothing. Just a brief description of their "situation". The Tyler family didn't seem to like sharing information. This would be tough. Looking at the clock he saw that it was 2:16. Late. Of course. I heard some talking—er, shouting—in the hallway.

"See Dean, I told you we'd be late!"

"Oh shut up princess."

"You're the one who went back for a second bacon cheeseburger!"

"Will you two shut up?"

How very functional. I heard the secretary try to usher them into my office, and was clearly disregarded. Poor thing. She was new, just out of college I think. The two brothers finally shoved their way into my office, followed by an older man. An uncle? It said on the chart that the father died, but of course it didn't say how—or when. The two brothers continued to bicker, completely ignorant of their surroundings. I cleared my throat, to no avail. The older man hit the two brothers on the back of the head to quiet them down. I gestured for them to take a seat on the couch. They sat down with one brother on each side of the older man. No surprises so far.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Thomas Andrews, but feel free to call me Thomas."

One of the brothers—the taller, lankier one—spoke up. "I'm Sam Tyler, and that's Dean Tyler. This is our uncle Bobby Tyler." So I was right about the "uncle" thing.

"Your chart says that you are here because of 'incessant arguing'. Who thought of the idea to come here?" It was always a good idea to figure out who was on my side, and who I would be fighting with for the rest of the session.

"I did." Said the uncle—Bobby, as they called him. He was a rough looking man, and he sounded angry. To be honest, he scared me a little. I was surprised he was the one encouraging this.

"And do you two agree with him that you should be here?" I questioned. Sam rolled his eyes, while his stockier older brother just glared. Oh joy, at least they're cooperative. I kept my smile anyway. I needed them to think that someone wanted to be here, especially the older brother—Dean—who hadn't said a word since I had started speaking. "So tell me Dean, do you agree that you have been arguing a lot with Sam lately?"

"Me? I would never argue with my darling little sister, ain't that right Sammy?" Sam shot him a dirty look, but kept quiet.

"Dean, I'm going to request that you do not say anything that is intentionally offensive to your brother. In order for this session to work, we are going to have to maintain an open and positive environment." He just chuckled quietly to himself.

"What about you Sam? Do feel that there has been a lot of arguing between you and your brother recently?" I prepared myself for another sarcastic response.

"Yeah, I guess so." At least one of them is trying.

"What do you think may have sparked this?" I pressed.

"I think it started about a month ago when Dean met my...girlfriend, Ruby. He's been really mad ever since he learned that I was hanging out with her again." A girl? How trivial.

"I see. Dean, why is it that you don't like your brother's girlfriend?" I regretted asking as soon as I said it. This was clearly a touchy question.

"Because she's a total psychopath! She's going to get my brother killed and he doesn't even care!"

"Why do you say that? Surely your brother can handle his own decisions."

"You don't get it. She's-she's-" Bobby shot him a nervous glance. Interesting. "Oh never mind." Dean looked angry at his sudden loss for words. I would have to bring this up again later.

"Let's forget about Ruby for a minute, shall we? What else have you been arguing about?"

Dean cut in before Sam had a chance to say something he didn't like. "Well Sammy boy over here is always complaining to me about being honest, even though he's turned into a pathological liar like his demonic girlfriend." Demonic? What an odd word choice.

"I'm sorry Dean, but I would prefer we forget about Ruby for a while. Sam, why did you call your brother a liar?" He thought for a minute. Good, I'm glad someone cares about what they say.

"I called him a liar because he keeps insisting that he can't remember his time in the military, although he has clearly been showing signs of trauma." Dean raised his eyebrows and showed a hint of a smile.

"Signs?" I questioned.

"He has nightmares all the time, and has been drinking like crazy since he got back."

"I see..." I jotted down some notes about the brothers' personalities and what they had said so far. I also took note at how on edge they were. Every time the boys brought up a new subject, their uncle would give them a look as if to tell them to watch what they were saying. Very odd behavior. I wonder if the uncle is part of the problem. So far, this had been much more interesting than he thought it would be.
I decided to continue on with the current subject. It seemed stable enough. "So Dean, is what Sam said true? Have you been having trouble since leaving the military?" Dean let out a deep sigh.

"Look Doc, I don't think Sam explained it quite right. I was in the military, sure. But that's not the whole story. I was in the war. In fact, I was taken hostage for four months. It was..." he glanced at his brother, "like hell. I'm sorry I didn't want to make chitchat about the countless torture sessions. Yeah, I lied. Sue me. Don't you think they at least owe me some privacy after all I've been through?" Dean was getting worked up again. His eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment. Was he remembering something from the war? I pondered for a moment the theory that he had post traumatic stress disorder.

"Did you know that Sam?" I questioned, "Did you know that your brother was a prisoner of war?" Sam's face softened fractionally.

"Of course I did. We—me and Bobby, that is—were worried sick. We thought he would never come back. Honestly, we thought he would rot there for eternity." What the younger brother said was sad, but there was something strange about how he said it, as if he was really trying to say something else. Very weird.

"Dean, did you ever think about that? Did you think about how worried your family must have been? Did it ever occur to you that they only wanted to help?"

"I'm sure they did, but it doesn't matter. What happened in hell isn't something I want to talk about. My brother doesn't need to waste his energy worrying over me." Hell?

"I'm sorry, did you say hell?" Dean looked flustered.

"Uh, yeah. That's what the guys called it. Sorry, just forgot who I was talking to." Bobby seemed to let out a breath he was holding. I was going to ask another question, but the time on the clock said 3:00. Shoot, we were finally getting somewhere.

"Alright boys, I think we got a lot done today, but I don't think you've worked out your problems yet." Ahem, Ruby "I'm going to suggest you sign up for a couple more sessions." The boys started to complain, but their uncle cut them off with a sharp look.

"Good idea. We'll be here tomorrow, same time." I heard the brothers mutter some swears under their breath as they got up to leave.

They left the room and wrote down some last minute observations. To the side of my notepad, I jotted down a list of topics to ask about. Ruby, "hell", past and current occupations, living arrangements, parents' deaths...and everything else they neglected to add to their chart. I looked at the list and shook my head. This might actually get interesting.