**This is a story for the Sam/Jared birthday exchange over at CWESS. This story is in no way made for profit and is simply for fun.**

A/N: When I got my challenge I was really worried because I wasn't at all sure how I was going to take the wonderful Vonnie's idea and make a story out of it. I hope this is even marginally close to what you had in mind!

Prompt info:

Vonnie: What I would like.

1. My 2nd prompt from the Secret Santa exchange:Dean is missing, or at least that's what Sam thinks. In reality he is there and everyone can hear and see him but Sam, who is under a spell by the monster of the week. While Sam is talking to everyone, trying to figure out where he is, everyone around him, including Dean thinks Sam has gone nuts.Bonus points for lots of hurt/limp Sam, awesome Dean, Bobby and/or John.

SUMMARY: After Sam wakes up in a hospital, with injuries he can't remember, he worries both doctors and hunters alike as he seems to be slipping from reality. Can Dean and Bobby get him back on track before he's deemed a ward of the state and institutionalized for good?

Title: Sanity's Serenade

A/N: No beta here, all mistakes are mine. You've been warned. : )

Chapter two:

Having decided his patient needed another MRI to confirm his suspicions, Dr. Marston quickly whisked Sam off to imaging in order to verify the hypothesis running ramped throughout his mind. Overly confident in the future Mr. Singer would be facing, considering the newly presented symptoms, the practitioner figured he'd need all the proof he could muster in order convince the overbearing family of his undeniable diagnosis. Just one more reason, Daniel Marston, wished he'd gone into law like the rest of his family, even with the title of "Doctor" people never seemed to take his word at face value.

The human population, in general, upset Dr. Marston, but throw in those of the Singer's caliber; annoying, brazen, undereducated, and willful, and you had a recipe for disaster. Daniel had seen these types many times before, being forced to work off his tenure in the backwoods of nowhere and hated them above all else. These people where your basic know it all hillbillies, so far beneath him it made his skin curdle. At least with the law, as his father had so delicately pointed out his first visit to the skimpy little hospital, he'd have been paid a retainer for indulging in such stupidities. It was too bad the injured brought forth in these parts, had to have such rabble as family. How could they ever dig themselves out of it and find a road to civilization when those around them blocked their paths?

With a deep sigh of impatience, Dr. Marston dove back into the task at hand. Congratulating himself on such a momentous find he knew he should take comfort in the silence of the exam room because soon enough it would be replaced with colorful profanities. Yet another reason he missed Boston and all its luxuries, at least there manners could be found in the dictionary. Daniel smirked to himself, heck even dictionaries could be found in Boston, here it was hit or miss if the locals could read the phone book, most of them calling "the idiots guide hunting" there bible.

It took a little over two hours, Dean and Bobby both pacing and rolling, respectively, in the hallway before a set of orderlies wheeled their youngest back to his room. Other than briefly mentioning to the men that an additional doctor had been called to check his patient over, it was another half an hour before the pompous doctor finally appeared and delivered his findings. At that point Dean was a stones throw away from exploding. His worry and fear playing like a kaleidoscope across his frazzled features.

Closing the heavy door behind him, the weary physician displayed a bleak expression as he approached the young man's family. To most people, he appeared abrasive and uncaring, which to some degree life and lack of praise had made him, but there was still a small part of him that really didn't like giving this kind of news, especially in regards to those so young. They may be beneath him, but tragedy still negated tragedy.

Although he wasn't an expert in psychosis, Daniel Marston, did recognize schizophrenic tendencies when he saw them. This case was spot on, in his opinion, and he wasn't about to let it slip through his fingers. While usually manifesting by way of seeing things that were not there, instead of not seeing those that were, he still couldn't deny the athletic man behind the door was of perfect age for the condition to manifest. Include the fact that he seemed to be under a considerable amount of stress and it was just one more nail in his patient's already sturdy coffin.

From the various scars the doctor saw when examining the kid and the multiple healed bones his x-rays displayed, it was easy to tell Samuel Singer had had a hard life and finally cracked from years of preparation. Add in the fact that he and his overbearing brother had been traipsing around the forest in less than favorable conditions, trying to train for some insane adventure competition, which the eldest sibling had openly admitted was pushed on his little brother, and the medic had no doubt Sam must have plummeted right over the edge of his dwindling sanity along with the embankment. The final tendrils of reason snapping with his unintended plummet into a less then friendly lakebed.

"I'm sorry to have kept you out here for so long, gentlemen, but I had to make sure Sam wasn't suffering any originally unforeseen complications due to his head injury."

Coming right out with it, as he wasn't one to beat around the bush, Dr. Marston continued speaking.

"Mr. Singer, has your brother ever been diagnosed with Schizophrenia or any other forms of mental illness?"

Dean's body tensed as he shot from the cold plastic chair he'd just settled into.

"Excuse me?"

The oldest brother's eyes turned dark and filled with a black rage as he spoke. It was haunting enough, that it made the doctor wonder just what Sam had really had to endure at the hands of his sibling growing up, but still Daniel didn't waver. Visibly unfazed, yet mentally making a note to update his security, the doctor continued.

"Has your brother ever been diagnosed with any kind of mental illness? Is there mental illness in your family?"

"No, of course not!" Dean's faced contorted as the implications of the man's statement took hold. "Why? What are you trying to tell me, my kid brother's nuts?"

Bobby, not liking the arrogant way Dr. Marston approached his questioning, finally stepped into the conversation.

"You think Sam's got some kind of mental illness?" He questioned, obviously not convinced.

"The kid just got flung off a cliff, for God's sake, wouldn't it make more sense for him to be suffering from some kind of head trauma?"

Dr. Marston stood his ground and straightened his shoulders once more.

"If Sam were exhibiting signs of head trauma he would, at the very least, have a headache or memory issues, even problems with mobility, lucky for him he's seemed to avoid those outcomes."

The Doctor shook his head.

"But he isn't. He knows who he is, knows who you are, and understands that he's having troubles by not recognizing his brother is in the room. If Sam couldn't speak or reason, move his body, or even if he couldn't see proportions, that would be one thing, but he can. It's as if Sam has blocked his brother from his consciousness. My guess is that Dean is some kind of mental stress for his brother and that's causing him to block him out. Subconsciously of course." The doctor finished purposely, allowing an air of arrogance to float on the resonance of his words.

"So you want me to believe that my brother was perfectly sane one minute and the next he's bonkers, that doesn't fly doc. That's bullshit!"

Oh here come the profanities, Daniel thought preparing for the battle.

Dean's hands were now fisted at his sides, his body erect and ready to throw a punch any second. Like a caged animal, the eldest Winchester stalked his pray, pacing in circles of nervous energy around the abstinent physician. How dare this Jack Ass accuse him of hurting his little brother, even, "subconsciously," as the man had sarcastically put it.

"Calm down Dean." Bobby warned knowing where this was heading. "We don't need you being carried off by security."

Bobby looked up at the Doctor, his height deficit really irritating him at this moment.

"What my overbearing nephew is trying to get across, is that Sam's the most sane person around, smart as hell to. The kid got a full scholarship to Stanford, he's not an idiot he'd have known something was wrong. There's no way he could just go nuts over night. Trust me he's been through a lot and he's still standing, so it's gotta be something else. You need to check him again, cause there's something you've obviously missed."

Dr. Marston mentally rolled his eyes. This was another reason he hated giving news like this to families, especially those like Sam's, they always thought they knew best, even though they weren't educated and didn't have a valuable opinion to stand on.

"Mr. Singer, Dean, we think Sam has schizophrenia, it's not uncommon and, educated or not, it can consume you practically over night."

Before either man could interject the doctor put his hand up halting there rebuttals.

"With this disorder it is common for a person to be fine one day and just snap the next. Sam's the perfect age for this condition to manifest, text book really. And to add to the relevancy, it's usually a traumatic experience, in the mind of the patient, that pushes them over the edge. When Sam fell off the embankment it must have been the last straw in a stress filled life and the disorder was allowed to take him over. I'm sorry to be the one to have to tell you this, but, the resident psychiatrist I brought in to consult agrees with me. Samuel has a very serious mental illness and he's going to need proper treatment to cobat it."

Dean's blood was boiling with each syllable that spilled from the uptight pricks tiny, tight lipped mouth. This was ridiculous, just plain, fucking, ridiculous! The man obviously had a lot of time on his hands and was looking for a breakthrough to rescue him from his current working conditions.

"Schizophrenics see things that aren't there, dude, they're paranoid. My brother's the most boring, rational, level headed person on the planet. The guy counts fat grams and eats salads for crying out loud. You can't seriously think he's schizophrenic, he's not even seeing me, let alone a giant purple elephant dancing in the freaken coroner."

Impressed that Dean did have some book knowledge hiding in that big, obstinate brain of his, Bobby took his opportunity to interject.

"I'd have to agree with the kid on this one doc, your diagnosis doesn't make a lick of sense."

Dr. Marston took a deep, calming breath before continuing.

"As I was saying, this condition can hit, seemingly out of nowhere. It commonly manifests when a person is in their late twenties and although it is very unusual, a lack of visual perception can occur. My guess is that Sam is, in fact, seeing things that aren't there but doesn't want to mention it as he doesn't want to seem insane. If he's as intelligent as you say, then he must realize he's experiencing something odd and want's to keep it to himself. Really it's good that he was unable to acknowledge you Dean, because it has given us the opportunity to recognize his disorder before he comes unhinged and hurts himself or someone else. A lot of schizophrenics present, initially, with violent tendencies. With your brother, we were able to catch it before that happened and with medication he should be able to live a relatively normal life."

"You're not medicating my brother you quack. I want a second opinion and I want him released from this hospital right now!" Dean seethed.

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen, Mr. Singer. Your brother had a bout of anxiety while the psychiatrist was speaking to him and we had to sedate him in order to calm him down. He's a big guy and we didn't want any trouble for him or for us. There were signs of him becoming violent, we couldn't risk a confrontation. Because of this I've ordered the state psychiatric hospital to take him for a 7 day hold to see if we can get his treatments under control and regulated before we entertain the idea of a conditional release. There's been more than one occasion of patients with this disorder falling through the cracks and becoming violent, even killing, and I, for one, refuse to let this be the case with Sam, I'm sorry."

"You can't do that!" Dean yelled, no longer caring if the entire hospital heard him.

"You can't just hall somebody off to the friggin nuthouse without a reason! Sam was anxious, really?" Dean taunted, glaring daggers into the doctors beady little eyes.

Sarcasm dripping off every word, Dean continued his rant.

"I can't imagine why. His brother's invisible and some dickhead with a medical degree is telling him he's crazy! I can't see a problem there, can you?" Dean through his hands in the air, accentuating his faux bewilderment.

Dean stepped as close to the arrogant man as possible stretching his height and giving his presence as much stature as possible. Using his full force of intimidation he glared at the insipient slug in front of him.

"You will release my brother right now or I'll put my foot so far up your ass, you'll have to have it surgically removed by one of your prissy little doctor friends."

Bobby rolled forward and grabbed Dean's fisted hand, pulling him off the good doctor and forcing him to look him in the eyes.

"Dean boy, calm the hell down, now!" He growled. "You understand me. If you don't, you're never going to be able to see your brother. Not here and certainly not at the mental hospital. Is that what you want? To be permanently separated from him when he needs you the most! Sam needs your talents to get him out of there. You know what I mean, Dean. All the things your Daddy taught you growing up. Understand." Bobby drawled, trying to get his young friend to see past his rage and realize they be stuck for now, but could easily rectify it later. Away from prying eye's, legal ears, and potbellied security details inching closer to the confrontation unfolding in their hospital.

Dean threw the doctor an evil glare but focused on Bobby once more. Mentally calming his jumping nerves and shoving his anger deep inside, storing it for a later time. Taking a deep breath Dean looked back over at the doctor.

"Fine, you do what you have to, but understand I'll be doing the same. I want full access to my brother and I want all medical decisions to be run by me first. I'm his closest relative and I know I have power of attorney."

Nodding his head, Dr. Marston gave his agreement, at least for now.

"You will retain power of attorney, Mr. Singer, but if it is determined that your involvement with your brother is detrimental to his health, I personally, will file a writ of dissolvent and have you removed as his primary decision maker. Do you understand this?"

With clenched jaws, blood seeping from the portion of his lip he was staunching, Dean nodded. All he had to do was stay focused on getting his brother out of the institution before they tied him down like the last place had. Sam wasn't crazy and once they all saw that his head injury was the cause of this unusual twist in events, then they'd drop the assholes diagnosis and either let his brother go or allow an opportunity for big brother to bust him out. Either way, Sam was not being left in some state run mental facility, not even a demon deserved that.

Daniel stepped aside from the doorway he'd been blocking and waved his hand in it's direction.

"You will both have this evening with Samuel, so make it a good one, tomorrow he will be transferred to the psychiatric facility and visit's will be restricted."

As the two gungy family members made their way to his patients closed doorway, Dr. Marston thought it prudent to have the last word.

"Don't forget Mr. Singer, I see anything, anything at all that seems detrimental to your brother's wellbeing and you will be removed. Keep that in mind as you say your goodbyes."

Dean shoved his fingernails deep into his palms as he passed the medic. Keep it together Dean, don't deck him, don't break his neck, you'll be rid of him soon enough. He kept playing through his mind.

"You are one sorry excuse for a human being, dude, better hope you never need anybody because I doubt they'll be there." Dean commented making sure to keep walking.

Bobby shook his head and decided the small defiant smile he saw on Daniel Marston's lips would go unmentioned to the eldest Winchester. The last thing he needed right now was for Dean to explode and end up in a 8X6 cell. There'd be no way in hell Bobby could break him or Sam out if that happened. He was a good hunter, even confined to the damn wheelchair, but he needed moves that no longer matched his own to pull that one off.

A/N: I know, I know this is a slow chapter, but I had to get this part in there. I know it's short and I'm sorry for that. I intended on having this be part of chapter two, but this seemed to need a place of it's own to live and thrive. Don't worry next chapter will have Sam in it from beginning to end. This is not my favorite chapter but I had to quite fiddling with it and get it posted. Thanks to everybody who has put alerts on my story and myself, I can't tell you how much that means to me. I would sure love to hear from my readers and would be happy to add something into the story if you really really want it. Mind you, it would have to fit the story, but still I'd love your suggestions. The more reviews, the better I feel. Thanks so much to everybody reading. I'll be putting another update up by next weekend at the latest. Thanks again, Nicole.