The Secret of Henley Winchester || Dean's Daughter (Supernatural)

Chapter 22: The Winchester's See a Grief Counselor

"God dammit! This thing is so uncomfortable," Henley whined from the back seat of the Impala. "I hate wearing cashmere. It makes my skin all itchy." She pulled at the long sleeves of the fancy red sweater, wishing with all her might she could tear it off of her.

"Henley, stop," Sam demanded, looking back at her with sympathy in his eyes. "It's only for a little while."

"Right," Henley mumbled, looking over at Jack. He was biting his lower lip, as he eyed the house before him. Clearly the poor boy was nervous. "Hey, Jack," Henley whispered, "It's going to be okay. I'll be right next to you the entire time." Jack offered her a small smile in thanks, as all four of them clambered out of Baby. This was it; no turning back now. No matter how much she wanted to.

"This is a dumb idea," Dean groaned, leading the way up to the psychiatrists house.

Sam huffed, walking faster and moving in front of Dean. "Just follow my lead."

"Yeah, doctor's gonna eat our liver with some fava beans and a bottle of Chianti."

Henley rolled her eyes at her father's exaggeration. Sure, the medium could be a monster, but she highly doubted she'd eat them with a bottle of Chianti. They weren't fancy enough humans for that.

Henley's eyes drifted upwards, as a big, bald man came strolling out the front door.

"Hello," the man gruffed out. Clearly, he was in a hurry. Henley moved to the side, pulling Jack next to her, so as to let the man pass. Henley's brows furrowed as Jack turned around to face the man leaving.

"Hello," Jack chirped, waving at the man as he turned around. Henley rolled her eyes. Sometimes this boy was too nice.

"C'mon," she grumbled, grabbing Jack's jacket sleeve, and pulling him onto the front porch with everyone else. They followed Sam inside the pristine house, and Henley could already feel her nerves starting to bubble to the surface. Memories about the last time she was in a place like this entered her mind. It didn't go too well. She had ended up biting her psychiatrist, Dr. Rushmore, which almost led to the lady suing her aunt. It wasn't her fault. Dr. Rushmore practically dared her. Henley told her, if the woman asked, 'What do you think that means?' one more time, she would bite her. So, of course, Dr. Rushmore asked that very question in response and well, Henley bit her. She wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

"Hello?" Sam called out, walking ahead of the trio and looking around the immaculately furnished house. Henley attempted to get a peek up the staircase when Dean snatched the sleeve of her red leather jacket, pulling her along. Henley let out a surprised shriek, peering up at her father, a frown etched into her face. Tugging her arm from his hold, Henley huffed, focusing her attention on her Uncle, as he looked around their seemingly empty environment.

"Can I help you?" As Henley rounded the corner, she was shocked to see a man, almost as short as her, standing behind a desk, a pile of folders in his hands.

"Yeah, we're uh. . ." Sam sighed, "hoping to see the doctor."

The man smiled at the four of us, his eyes scrunching up, and his tone way to chipper for Henley's liking. "Oh, I'm sorry. You caught us right at the end of our day. Maybe tomorrow."

"No. Today's good. Like right now," Dean affirmed. Henley knew by his tone that he was not going to be leaving here without seeing the medium.

Sam stuttered, a slight smile gracing his face. "He—Uh, we just need a moment of her time."

"You've lost someone recently?" Henley jumped, spinning around to see a tall, dark skinned woman with curls Henley was jealous of standing near the bottom of the staircase.