Chapter Text
“Remind me again what we’re doing here?” Dean is only half-sitting down in his chair, looking very much like he’s one wrong answer away from fleeing.
“Calm down,” Sam answers, keeping his voice low and steady. “Three people, all from the same small town, murdered their spouse then committed suicide, all within the span of a week. The only thing they have in common is this therapist.”
Dean leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yeah, well, then we investigate. I still don’t get why we’re pretending to get therapy. And couples therapy. Really, Sam?”
Sam still doesn’t move, just speaks in the same calm voice. “We’re getting therapy because, as of right now, we have nothing to go on. We don’t want to scare her off if she’s involved, so interrogation is out. And it’s couples therapy because she is a marriage counselor.”
Dean sighs loudly. “This is ridiculous,” he grumbles.
Sam says nothing, just tries to hide his smile at Dean’s nerves at the thought of having to sit through a counseling session.
“Dr. Sodhi will see you now,” the receptionist says. She stares at Dean as he stands up, and Sam watches the inevitable small smile on her lips, and Dean’s wink in response. When Sam clears his throat, Dean seems to remember that he’s not supposed to be flirting with the receptionist, especially a female receptionist, if they want this to work. He shoves his hands in his pockets and follows Sam through the white door on the other side of the waiting room.
“Good afternoon,” Dr. Sodhi says. She gets up from behind her desk and comes around to shake their hands. Sam sees nothing out of the ordinary at first glance, trades a look with Dean, who only shrugs like he didn’t think they would find anything here anyway. The doctor is tall and thin, with dark skin that matches her dark hair and eyes. She’s very pretty, but there’s a stiffness about the way she moves, a professionalism that borders on coldness. “Have a seat,” she says after they’ve introduced themselves. She gestures to the room at large, then takes a seat in a comfortable arm chair, leaving Sam and Dean to decide between the couch and two other chairs.
Sam sits on the couch because it’s closest, then rolls his eyes as Dean glances between the couch and the chair, undoubtedly trying to decide what the doctor will think of any choice he makes. Sam reaches out and tugs at Dean’s jacket sleeve until he plops down on the couch, where he quickly slides as far away from Sam as possible.
Dr. Sodhi just watches silently, adjusting her glasses before setting her notebook down on the small table between them. “Why don’t we start with you telling me why you’re here.”
Dean snorts, and Sam plays into it. “We’re here because, well, we’ve had some issues lately. Fighting a lot.”
Dean glares at him, and Sam raises his eyebrows and shrugs. What did Dean expect him to say? They have to play the part.
“Are the fights about anything in particular?” she asks.
“Not really.” Sam looks at the floor and scuffs one of his boots back and forth, playing it up. “We just see a lot of things differently these days.”
“How long have you two been together?”
Sam decides on the truth. “Pretty much our whole lives. But things got serious when I was twenty-two. We started working together then, and things...”
She nods to let him know she understands. “Dean? Would you like to say anything?” She shifts her gaze to Dean, who is staring at his hands.
He looks up at her nervously. “Me? Nah, I think Sammy’s pretty much said it all.” He grins, and Sam knows he’s used to that charm working on just about everyone. Somehow, Sam doesn’t think it will fly with Dr. Sodhi.
“Now’s a good time to go over the rules of therapy,” she says decisively.
Sam hides his grin and watches her carefully as she picks up her notebook and starts writing something down. He isn’t sure what it is about her, but something seems off. Maybe it’s his own nerves about the situation, but she doesn’t seem...nice enough. Polite, sure. But weren’t therapists and counselors supposed to exude compassion? Weren’t they supposed to make you feel at ease and comfortable?
“Therapy has rules?” Dean huffs, and Sam inwardly cringes at his skeptical tone.
“Of course,” Dr. Sodhi responds, a smooth and practiced smile on her face. “It’s important that we are all on the same page. First, this is a safe space. You are free to say whatever you want, feel however you want, and express yourself in whatever way you want excluding physical violence. Second, more progress will be made when both parties are active participants.” Again, Sam tries not to smile as she narrows her eyes at Dean with that statement. “And finally, I give homework. I hope both of you are committed to working on whatever issues exist between you outside of this office as well as during our sessions.”
“We’re committed,” Sam nods.
“Then tell me. What do you see as the biggest obstacle in your relationship? Why are we really here?”
Sam thinks for a moment, wracks his brain for something that sounds plausible and nicely vague. “Uh, well…”
“Can I tell you what I think?” she asks, pulling her glasses away and setting them down on top of her notebook, once again relegated to the table.
Sam nods, while Dean stares at the pictures on the wall.
“I think the two of you have some serious trust issues. You’re close to one another. Maybe bordering on codependent. I can tell from the way you keep looking at each other that you don’t have to talk to communicate, that you are so used to being around each other that your body language has become just another way the two of you have full conversations. Dean, you don’t want to be here. Perhaps that’s because you’re afraid to talk too much about these things? You’re afraid of bringing up old wounds, or maybe of the consequences of dealing with them.” Dean shifts uncomfortably, but Dr. Sodhi keeps going. “I notice you don’t wear wedding rings, or have any outward sign that you’re married. Like I said, I believe you have major trust issues. It would be impossible for the two of you to have been this close for as long as you have without breaking trust somewhere along the way. And that’s a good place to start.”
Sam stares at her, a little stunned at how accurate she is. She’s wrong about the nature of their relationship, of course, but the rest…
Sam has to remind himself that he’s here to get a read on her, not the other way around.
“So. How do we do this?” he asks, ready to play along for the sake of this case.
“Well, I like to start by focusing on the positive. Aside from the fact that you’ve managed to keep this relationship together for as long as you have, the fact that you are actively trying to work on it is wonderful.”
Once more, Sam wonders what it is that just...feels wrong. She’s saying all the right things, and her mannerisms are all just the right tone of calm and soothing, but she still seems robotic.
Too perfect.
“So what I’d like us to do today is very simple,” she continues. “In the spirit of moving forward and solving problems, I’d like the two of you to take a minute and tell the other what you love about him.”
“You want us to do what?” Dean scoffs.
“It’s a good reminder of why you’re together,” she encourages, “and what it is you’re trying to save.”
Dean turns to Sam with pleading eyes. “Look, this isn’t-”
“We can do that,” Sam interrupts. “Uh. I guess. Um, Dean’s funny. And he’s a good cook when he wants to be.”
Dean chimes in, nodding vigorously like Sam’s given him an out, like he wants the doctor to know he’s a good little patient. “Sam’s really smart. Scary smart. And he makes sure I get some vegetables in me every now and then.”
Dr. Sodhi nods, takes a note, then takes her glasses off. “Let’s try that again,” she suggests. “And this time, I’d like you to dig a bit deeper. Tell me something specific and real.”
“Can I ask you something first?” Sam asks.
She folds her hands in her lap. “Of course.”
“How successful is therapy? Do most of the couples that come see you work things out?”
Dean shifts slightly, a small enough movement that Sam knows he’s the only one who noticed it. This is their chance to get a read on Dr. Sodhi, and they both know it.
“That’s irrelevant,” she smiles, the expression still ringing false to Sam. Dean shifts again and Sam knows he feeling the same vibe. “We aren’t here to compare your relationship to others, and if I give you statistics, you’ll use them to decide whether or not this experience is worth it, rather than focusing on your own needs.”
She’s not wrong, Sam thinks. And it was a perfect answer.
“Let’s just try again,” she pushes. “Sam. Tell me what it is about Dean that you love. Why have you stayed with him so long?”
Sam sighs, knowing he isn’t going to get out of it this time. “I’ve stayed with him,” he begins, feeling Dean very carefully not looking at him, “because he’s always there for me.”
“Can you elaborate?”
“He...he puts what I need first. Wants to make sure that I’m always safe and happy. Always has.” Sam can’t look at Dean, can’t deal with how mortifying this is going to be the second they are alone.
“Good. And Dean?” Dr. Sodhi turns her dark eyes away from Sam, and he lets out a deep, relieved breath as Dean takes the hot seat. “What about you?”
“I, uh.”
The doctor only stares at him, and he keeps rambling, trying to come up with an answer, knowing she won’t let it go until he does.
“Um, I guess Sam pulls me back in whenever I spin out.”
“And what exactly does that mean?” Dr. Sodhi nods encouragingly, scribbling notes.
“I just. Uh. He’s good at calming me down when I need it,” Dean allows, then rubs at the back of his neck and purses his lips, letting everyone know he’s done talking.
“There. Easy, right?” The doctor smiles at them indulgently, like they’ve earned a gold star sticker.
Sam and Dean both nod silently.
“I think that’s a good start for today. I see that you’ve scheduled three meetings this week? So I’ll see you Wednesday. For next time, I’d like you both to individually think about one specific issue you’d like to address. Is there one event that’s causing problems, or one ongoing frustration you’d like to fix, that kind of thing.”
Sam stands and smiles. “Thanks, Dr. Sodhi.”
Dean says nothing, just nods and heads for the door as fast as he can.
********
“What do you think?” Sam asks, sliding into the passenger seat of the already rumbling Impala.
“I think that whole thing gave me the creeps.”
“Dean…”
Dean sighs. “I think there’s something weird. She’s like…”
“A little too perfect?”
“Yeah. Rigid. There’s something creepy about her.” Dean pulls out of the parking lot and points the car in the direction of their motel.
“Agreed. So we’ll go back on Wednesday. In the meantime, I’m going to see if I can hack into her files and get a list of patients, start checking them out.”
“And I’m going to get some dinner after I drop you off. Burgers okay? Or do you need me to get you some healthy shit?”
“It’s not healthy ‘shit’, Dean. Most of it’s delicious, actually. Just because you are determined on giving yourself a heart attack before you’re forty-”
“I just know that bacon tastes good, Sammy. That’s a scientific fact.”
Sam rolls his eyes, then grins. “Maybe us going to therapy isn’t a terrible idea. We do argue a lot.”
Dean snorts a laugh. “Nah, that’s just how we say I love you,” he teases.
Sam glances over at his brother, face glowing in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windshield, and grins. “I suppose,” he says softly.
When Dean speaks again, Sam isn’t sure he hears him correctly at first. “Did you mean what you said back there?”
It takes Sam a minute to decide if Dean’s serious or if he’s just waiting for another excuse to mock and tease. There’s no amusement in Dean’s face as he keeps his eyes carefully trained on the road, hands placed strategically on the steering wheel, so Sam decides to answer. “Sure, Dean. You’ve always taken care of me. You know that.”
Dean says nothing.
“Did you mean what you said?” Sam asks when he can’t stand the silence any longer.
“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean nods.
Sam isn’t sure what to make of that, so he just turns his head to his window.