The Beautifully Tortured

Dean paused with his hand on the door that would lead him into the waiting room, almost forgetting that Sam was still waiting behind him until he spoke, "Dean, you're going to be late."

"Alright, Sam," he snapped before pulling the door open and going into the waiting room. It wasn't even four o'clock according to his phone and yet Sam had been moaning like a woman about how he was going to be late for the appointment that he'd ever so nicely booked in advanced for at least five minutes. The other six or seven appointments that he'd booked were a whole different story to Dean and he would be ripping Sam a new one for wasting all that money on a psychotherapist.

The waiting room was empty when he sat on one of the chairs but the moment he'd sat down, the door to Doctor Novak's office opened and there stood the same man that Dean just hated the sight of.

"Dean Winchester," he called, looking directly at Dean with an expression that bordered on surprise, before he turned back into his office. This time the doctor closed the door when Dean got in and gestured for him to sit down on the chair that was clearly dedicated to all the patients that ever stepped foot into the office.

The doctor seemed oddly quiet for a few moments while Dean sat on the chair and draped his arm across the back, making himself comfortable. If he was going to stay for the whole session he might as well get accustomed to the chair.

"I must say, Dean," Doctor Novak began, leaning against his desk much like he did in the previous session. "I did not expect to see you today."

"Well, Doc, sorry to disappoint," he retorted, shooting him a quick smile.

"I take it your brother had something to do with it?"

Dean had to stop himself from snapping at him for that question, not at all keen that he had brought up Sam so early into the session considering all that he had stated in the previous session they'd had. That had earned him the title of "douchebag" and for the defences over Sam to raise higher than they were before. It had just been drilled into him to be defensive over Sam, even though they were both grown men now and his baby brother wasn't a baby anymore.

So all he settled for was an off-hand "Maybe" before finding something better to look at from where he was sat. A clock would have been most ideal.

"Why does me mentioning your brother anger you, Dean?" the doctor asked. He seemed self-righteous in the way he stood and sounded, something that clearly indicated to Dean that he was in the perfect job.

"It doesn't," he protested.

The doctor studied him for a moment and Dean felt his patience wearing thinner by the moment. "You're tense. As soon as I mentioned your brother, your body language changed and even your speech became defensive. Instead of trying to provide an answer, you simply deviated around the subject."

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "Look, Doc, I don't know why I'm even here – hell, Sam probably needs more help than I do – but I'm not here for you to tell me that I deviate around subjects because frankly, I get that crap from Sam all the time and I don't need it from you as well."

"You keep referring to Sam being the only reason you're here but surely you would not be here for the second time if that were the case," the doctor mused, standing straight in his position and moving to behind the desk before sitting in his chair. "So, Dean, am I right?"

It took everything Dean had to stay sat in the chair. He wanted to just get up and walk out the door without ever having to come back into this damned room again. All the pre-booked appointments that Sam had made in an attempt to make sure he would attend could go screw themselves for all Dean cared because he did not need someone to judge him based on things he hadn't said, let alone someone who he didn't even know. That's the thing with professionals – they think that because they have a fancy title in front of their name that they're entitled to judge whoever steps through the threshold of their office, something which he despised vehemently.

When he didn't reply, the doctor tried another tactic. "How about we touch upon another topic?" he questioned, gazing at Dean with those piercing eyes. "Like your anger issues."

"I don't have any issues, Doc," Dean snapped, immediately realising that he hadn't replied in his favour.

"The first thing you need to do is acknowledge that you have issues with containing your anger. You've become angry several times throughout this session so far and we haven't yet scratched the surface."

This was all Sam's fault. He didn't even understand why his brother felt the need to suddenly have booked appointments for a psychotherapist, especially since nothing had happened any time recently. Dean had been living fine, getting by from day to day and still managing to check on Sam each day to neutralise his protective nature that was always trying to rear up constantly. So long as he knew that his brother was okay, he could squash his need to protect him for the day and go about with his life easily.

"Okay, Doc. Just say that I did have these anger issues that you think I do and that I have acknowledged them – then what?" he responded hypothetically.

"Then I teach you how to contain that anger," the doctor explained. He leaned back in his chair and studied Dean's expression. "It's simple, really, because it's a breathing technique which helps relax the mind and reduce anger levels."

"Great," Dean deadpanned, not at all pleased that he was going to have to do a stupid breathing technique to help with issues he didn't even have in his own opinion.

Doctor Novak could sense his reluctance but decided not to address it for the moment. "Close your eyes, Dean. Now think back to our first session when I mentioned your parents. Remember the anger you felt," he guided, watching as Dean begrudgingly closed his eyes and followed what was being said. "Now inhale deeply, making sure to keep the air in before counting to three and exhaling. Exhale all the anger that came at the mention of your parents."

Strangely enough, when Dean exhaled he actually felt slightly better than he did before the breathing technique. He didn't want to admit it to himself, much less the doctor, but it did seem to work a little with releasing some of his anger. But that still didn't mean he was the type of person who needed to learn breathing techniques, and when their time was up a few minutes after exhaling, he was out of the door as quick as lightning.