Trying not to worry about an unpleasant event looming is like, well, trying not to think about it when your nose is itchy. Don't think about it. Do not think about how itchy your nose is, how easy it would be to just scratch it. Don't scratch. AARRGG!
Dean was trying to NOT think about the scheduled Child Protective Services ordered home visit, mental and physical examinations Saturday, when he and Sam went trolling for the elusive fairy; and Sunday, hunting again for the fairy and taking Charlie back to the airport; and even Monday, pouring over books trying to find a way to compel the sylph to appear. When Tuesday rolls around his trepidation over the upcoming events leave him almost trembling, and it is all Sam can do to keep from hugging his prickly brother and promising that everything will be okay.
Verbally denying his worry, Dean has tripped on the stairs, broken a coffee cup, burned himself making breakfast, and dropped silverware in the kitchen in his first hour of being awake Tuesday morning. Sam keeps asking him if he's okay, and looking like a kicked puppy when Dean snaps at him.
Cas is the only one of them who is calm this Tuesday, but with some of the whackadoo ideas he has spouted, including the suggestion to tell them Dean is the chosen one of a religious cult, Dean and Sam are losing hope. The angel looks at them with disappointment and hurt apparent. "I am not going to allow anything bad to happen to you, Dean. Please, just trust me." Cas's facial expression is earnest and his electric blue eyes are pleading. "If it becomes inevitable that they intend to take you from us, I will take you somewhere else."
"Will both of you stop trying to tell me everything is gonna be okay. Okay? I'm fine. In fact, I'm frikkin' awesome." Dean's voice betrays him, cracking in the middle of his pronouncement. He throws up his hands and stalks off to dress carefully for the coming home interview.
Sam also dresses carefully, trying to look respectable. "Cas, you have to take the overcoat off in the house." Sam tells the angel. "As a matter of fact, you might take off the suit jacket too. We supposed to live here, so we should try to look comfortable." That's as much time as Sam has left for giving advice before Ms. Ortiz shows up and is pleased with the house's cleanliness, the amount of food available, and even with the boy's godfather. The first of the three trials they face has only one catch, Dean is not enrolled in school. Sam says it is his intention to home school Dean, who is far advanced for his age, and Ms. Ortiz says whether that is acceptable will depend on results of the mental and physical examinations today.
After the well-meaning caseworker leaves, Sam turns to Dean and says, "See that wasn't so bad was it?"
Dean snarls back. "Don't tell me how easy this is unless you can be the one poked, prodded and probed in these examinations."
"Well you are going to feel pretty damned silly if everything goes fine after all your drama queen histrionics, Dean." Sam really does intend to take the higher ground, but Dean has been driving him crazy. "Maybe you could just try to be calm because, you heard Cas, nothing bad is going to happen to you on our watch."
Cas agrees, adding his gravelly voice to the assurances. "Please, just relax, Dean. Your brother and I will take care of this."
That is the exact wrong thing to say to a guy who has been working overtime to prove he was still a capable man, a hunter, trapped in the body of a teenager. Dean does not want to be taken care of, and being told to relax has the opposite effect. It was bad enough that his immature nervous system no longer allows him to mask his nightmares – and that his brother knows it. Unfortunately, Sam's relief at passing the home inspection, and Cas taking it as a personal victory on his part, are only serving to make Dean angrier.
It's a surly Dean who is led into a doctor's exam room after a series of x-rays and lab tests and told to take off his clothes. He folds his arms across his chest and refuses. "I think we can do this with my clothes on," he snipes.
Doctor White, the state contracted physician, has dealt with plenty of recalcitrant teen-aged boys in his 30 years of medical practice and he will not argue. He walks out into the waiting room and tells Cas and Sam that Dean is refusing to cooperate. He says that one, or both of them if need be, must get in there and talk him into doing what he's told. Plus, Doctor White now says that at least one must stay with Dean the entire time as a chaperone.
Dean is still standing there in a fighter's stance, legs braced, fists curled against his thighs, when Sam and Cas both enter the room. Three pairs of eyes glare, each refusing to back down in the non-verbal argument. Cas steps toward him, hand outstretched, Dean steps away, but the room is not that big. His knees knock into the examining table. Sam lets out a low growl. "Dean, you are being ridiculous, and, and childish…"
Sam wishes he could rewind and take that word back, but Dean's look of betrayal will leave a scar.
"I. am. not. comfortable. being. told. to. take. my. clothes. off," Dean says in a furious and deliberatively measured tone, and with that pronouncement Dean puts Sam, who remembers what he learned of Dean's dark secrets a few days ago, on the defensive.
Cas, however, is not buying into the drama. "Dean, either you take off your clothes, or we will take them off you. We do not have leverage here, and you are making matters worse by your stubborn behavior." Cas's tone is matter of fact and insistent.
Dean blinks. He visibly tries to pull himself together but the tremors running through his body are apparent. He realizes the angel is right, doesn't want to admit he was wrong, and is now dealing with guilt as well as the panicked knot in his stomach about this exam. None of this is making him feel particularly cooperative. Dean takes a deep breath. "Okay. Okay, I'll do it. You guys can go."
"No. We cannot go. Your fit has made the doctor decide one of us must stay in here with you, which is probably for the best." The angel catches the panicked eye-rolling expression from Dean. "Do you want me or your brother?"
"Wait. You're kidding, right? "Dean closes his eyes, and wonders how much worse this sucky day could continue to get. They are standing there waiting to see if he wants his little brother or Cas watch him take off his clothes and get probed by the doctor - while he's wearing his little boy birthday suit. "This ain't happening."
Cas turns to Sam. "I believe I've got this Sam. You can go." And as much as Sam wants to be the big brother here, he can't stand to think about how much Dean is going to hate being put in this situation. He makes a strategic retreat away, leaving Cas to handle the hyperventilating teenaged Dean.
How Cas managed to get Dean to cooperate, Sam really doesn't want to know. He's concerned enough about the looks the doctor gave them and the furious notes he was typing in to his computer when Dean came out of the exam room. Sam doesn't ask what has his brother looking like a limp noodle as they head to the mental health examination two floors up in the same building. Cas has Dean by the elbow steering him.
"Dean, hey. You kind of need to pull it back together, man." Sam tries encouraging his brother. "C'mon, man. The worst is over. You need to be sharp now."
Dean looks and gives a brief nod. "Yeah, Sammy. I got this - just give me a minute." The fact that the minute is spent with Dean tucking his head between his knees in the next waiting room tells Sam the situation is about as bad as it can be for Dean. With Sam on one side and Cas on the other, they wait for Dean's turn.
The first part of this segment takes place with Dean sitting in front of a computer taking tests, after a long two hours Dean returns to the waiting area. "What was that about?" Sam wants to know. Dean shrugs, and tells his brother that he suspects he has just completed an MMPI and an education level assessment.
"Personality indicator, huh?" Sam tries to joke light-heartedly. "How many questions were there about pie?"
Dean gives him a ghost of a grin, appreciating how hard this must be for his brother to just sit and wait. After another half-hour, the psychologist comes into the waiting room and asks all three of them to join her in her office.
She's an older woman, maybe early 60's, short, pudgy, and with a no-nonsense air. She introduces herself as Doctor Jean Davis, and her nameplate has a string of letters after her name that tell of her licensing and qualifications to the informed. She says she'll explain some of what Dean just completed, then talk to Dean alone, before she makes her decision and sends the report to Child Protective Services.
"I appreciate you explaining what's going on," Dean says softly, taking the lead. "We'd like to know what those tests were and what they say."
Doctor Davis eyes Dean like a lab experiment. "You're an interesting young man, Dean Singer. Genius IQ, Education level past high school equivalency, and an MMPI that speaks of either the most well-adjusted person I've ever met or a highly functioning sociopath."