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Therapy. Fucking therapy. How the hell did Dean let himself get talked into this one? He couldn’t even remember, the whole conversation was just a blur of Sam’s girly hair and his damn puppy dog eyes and suddenly Dean was sitting in an overly beige room with some guy whose eyes could not be real and whose name was a freakin’ tongue twister in itself.
“Just try it, Dean. What could it hurt?” Sam had said.
“But therapy?” He had fought. “Seriously?”
But Sam was adamant. Apparently Jess’ sister went to this guy and his magic mind mojo had changed her freakin’ life or something, Dean didn’t know or care. He wasn’t broken. Even if some crap had happened, Winchesters just don’t go crying to shrinks when their feelings get hurt.
But this was one of those times Dean found it impossible to say no to Sammy. So here he was, getting ready to spill his problems to some blue-eyed quack (granted, a hot one) who probably didn’t give a rat’s ass about his miserable little life beyond how he was paying his bill.
“So, Dean, what brings you here today?” The doctor never took his eyes off Dean, he just sort of stared intensely and it was just a tad unnerving. For a shrink he should really have better knowledge of social conventions, Dean thought.
“Look, doc-“
“Call me Castiel.”
Dean raised his eyebrows. “Damn that’s a mouthful. Mind if I call you Cas?”
His mouth broke into a tiny smile. God it was like his entire face changed, even with the smallest expression. He looked so much more relaxed without the severe line of his lips. “That will be fine, Dean.”
“Look, I’m gonna be straight with you. I’m only here because my baby brother, Sam, asked me to do this. I’m not broken, I don’t need to come and spin some woe is me tale for some guy I pay to sit across from me and listen to my bullshit every week. No offense but all this – stuff, this head-shrinky feelings crap, it isn’t me. Yeah, some shit happened but I’m dealing with it. I can handle it.”
Cas did this head tilt thing that totally wasn’t adorable, nope, no way. “May I just ask you, why are you telling me all this?”
Dean raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean why am I telling you this, you’re a freakin shrink. Isn’t this what you do, you listen to people or whatever?”
“You misunderstand me,” Cas let out a small laugh. “I mean, why didn’t you just tell, Sam, was it? Why not explain to him what you just did to me and not even bother with pretending you want something you obviously don’t?”
It was suddenly very hard for Dean to look Cas in the eyes. “I don’t know he – he was just trying to help. I mean, I get it. I guess I just didn’t want to turn it into a fight. It’s not important enough to fight about.”
“Obviously it’s important enough to him if he went to the trouble to approach you about it.”
“I guess. Maybe that’s why I’m here. But either way it’s a one-off. Like I said, I get by just fine on my own.
Cas just nodded to himself for a moment. He had been taking some notes on a clipboard the whole time but now he set it on the table next to him and leaned forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. He worked his jaw, formulating his response. “It is my opinion that you do need some help, Dean. Granted, I’ve only just met you. But it is obvious that you do not want to burden your brother, and it is not much of a leap to assume you are probably that way with others you care about. On the other hand, you do not trust me, which is understandable. You only just met me and, as you pointed out, I do get paid for this. But I would like you to know that I do want to help you. We all have our demons, you do, I do. And we all have to learn to face them. Dean, therapy isn't just for broken people. It is not about having some tragedy in your past or being unsatisfied with your life or any stereotypical scenario you might be imagining. I am simply someone to listen to whatever you want to tell me and to help you through whatever you ask my assistance for. I have had patients who are perfectly well adjusted and happy who only come here to tell me about their week and ask my opinion on the stress of painting their kitchen. I'm here to help in whatever way I can, and if that means you want to return and talk about your problems with me, we can do that. And if it means that after this hour is up you want to curse my name for wasting your time and never see my face again, you can do that too. I am simply a tool at your disposal, Dean. And I won't encourage you to stay if you truly don't want to be here. But if you decide I can be of use to you then say the word, and I would be more than happy to help."
The words themselves weren't altogether unexpected, but the sincerity in Cas' eyes that accompanied them hit Dean like a ton of bricks. He expected some half- hearted spiel about talking it out but Cas just looked so genuine. Like he cared. It was crazy, I mean the guy had just met Dean, he couldn't possibly care. Nobody but Sam ever cared about him. But here he was, this stranger telling Dean he wanted to help. And hell if Dean didn't want to believe him.
Dean realized he must have stayed silent a moment too long because Cas started talking again. "Dean, I realize this may be something of a leap of faith to you-"
Dean let out a humorless bark of laughter. "Yeah, those never seem to end well for me." He rubbed his neck and avoided Cas' striking gaze. "But - uh - you seem like you're being straight with me so, can't hurt, right? I mean, to try, I guess?"
Cas smiled and it was like his entire face softened. "I'm glad," and he looked like he really was.
"So is this the part where I have to talk about myself some more?"
"Well, we still have thirty minutes, maybe tell me about your family, friends, job, relationships, anything you want." And Dean told him. He told Cas about Sammy and about Jess, how proud he was of him for landing a girl like that. He told him about his mother's death and his father's drinking. He told him about Bobby and Ellen and how he wished he'd had them as adoptive parents twenty years sooner. About working in Bobby's auto shop and wanting to run it himself one day. About his baby and how he smashed her up and brought her back to life time and time again. Before he knew it he had spilled his life story to a stranger who, for a reason Dean could not fathom, had no judgment in his eyes. And too soon their hour was up.
"I'm afraid I have another appointment soon, Dean, but I'm very glad you decided to give it a chance."
Dean smiled wider than he had in a while. "Yeah, me too, Cas. Same time next week?"
"I'll be here." And Dean thought, yeah, he really will.