**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. : )

A/N 2: Hello, I know it's been quite a while since I've been on the writing circuit and I very much apologize for the delay of 2 years! As a few of you know, I became pretty sick the year I started writing this and I just couldn't get my muse to concentrate past the bouts of medical problems I was experiencing. Long story short in addition to the Type one diabetes I've had since 1995, I discovered that I have MS (Multiple Sclerosis) and even though I've been feeling pretty good the last year or so I just couldn't get my muse to come out and play. Over the last two years I've had months of nerve issues, vertigo, pain, and double vision thanks to the MS, the next year 2011 when I was diagnosed I had my mom hospitalized twice, the second time for an entire month from MRSA, my husband had to have back surgery then two months later was hospitalized with a bad infection and lost his job due to it, then our truck was repossessed, and finally this past year I lost my job, soooooooo, I've been a little out of my writing element and quite frankly just didn't have the desire to create anything. Now, however, I've decided with Muse cooperation or not, I'm going to try and delve back into writing and find some joy there again. I feel good, I've been lucky enough to be relatively healthy regardless of my medial issues, I've found a less stressful better job, my husband is employed, and God willing, things will start to look up.

A/N: 3 Thank you to all who have left such great reviews, who have alerted me and/or this story, and who are still out there. I hope that I don't disappoint. To those who have left reviews and anonymous reviews that were less than nice, whelp, all I can say it thanks! Because, each time a review is left, regardless of the content, it ups my number which for any of us who write on here, whether you admit it or not, is exciting! The higher the review number the better you feel. No matter what it says, the review still counts!

And MOST importantly, I am sooooooo SORRY to Vonnie, she is a fantastic person who deserved much more for her prompt than she got for me. I know it's been a loooong time and I hope that it can, at the very least, bring her some Joy. It's not as good as her stuff, but I hope she enjoys it none the less!

Chapter 7

Dr. Michaels felt the fight she usually reserved for insubordinate and unruly families leave her body. Her patient's brother was right. If she pressed the issue further not only would she have to deal with the rather intimidating man before her and his obvious "anger issues," but she'd also have to endure the public backlash his threats would instigate. There was always a fall guy in these kinds of situations and she had no illusions a struggling doctor from nowhere Indiana, trying to work off student loans paid by an obscure mental hospital, would not be the perfect patsy.

Without a hint of doubt, Jackie knew exactly who the media would side with. No way would the sympathy lye with a struggling physician working in a mental facility. Why would it? Although she truly cared for her patients and did whatever she could to ease their suffering that would never come to fruition. She'd be thrown under a rather weighty bus, one big enough to suffocate her the moment she tried to defend herself. Instead the focus would be pushed souly on the once healthy young man now crippled and helpless at the hands of a careless drug overdose. All she had, all the audience would see, was a big gothic building and patients the world had long since forgotten. Nobody, not her bosses, nor her patients, would stand up for her and she wasn't delusional enough to believe that they would. Practical medicine for her was a rarity at best. Most days, the direst of matters she dealt with consisted of injuries inflicted by invisible ninja's or a patient swallowing the sporadic checker piece. On rare occasions, if she was really lucky, she'd get a virialant case of the stomach flu. There would be no softening that scenario, no matter how she tried to painted it.

Who wouldn't side with the strong, attractive older brother whose mesmerizing emerald eyes shown such deep sorrow, pain, and understandable anger? His story would surely blanket the nightly news and leave no room for interpretation past the tag line: Sibling hell bent on revenge relating to improper care of little brother. Care, mind you, her hospital inflicted on the once independent young man. The potential headlines coated her brain like a tickertape banner in Time Square. "Local mental hospital causes permanent damage to otherwise healthy 26 year old." Add in a nice big photo displaying the soft, kind eye's of the patient in question, his handsome young body crippled, completely immobile, vibrant muscles deteriorating with each passing second, drool slipping unattended from his lax mouth as he sits strapped to a mechanical wheelchair his paralyzed "every day Joe" uncle gently palming his shoulder and it'd be lights out for not only her career, such as it was, but the facility as well. In a nutshell, Jackie was screwed and she knew it. Even now, it would be a miracle for the facility to avoid major fallout, multiple that by a threatened media frenzy and they were done before they began.

Sighing, defeat evident, Jackie cleared her throat and relaxed her shoulders. Hearing the heavy breathing orderlies behind her, itching to be unleashed, she silently offered her hand signaling they cease and desist their mounting attack.

"Ok." She stated simply. "I'll relent, but you have to promise me that you will get in touch with a clinic or social worker or something that will teach you how to care for your brother. He's no longer the strong young man that you left with us and he's going to need a lot of care. Is that understood, do we have a deal?"

Dean felt a small amount of tension leave his muscles as he allowed a moment's reprieve from his anger. One battle down, God knew how many more to go.

"Yeah fine."

Privately Dean knew he would never pursue the legal clams threatened. How could he? He wasn't even using his own name! Besides all that, he was now more than positive the damage done to his brother was not the work of some stupid medical error, but something deceivingly supernatural. Although, he thought, there was no reason the quacks needed to know that. Currently he had them by the balls and that's exactly where he wanted them. Nice and cozy, warm and secure right in the palm of his hands. Dean still had more he needed from this medieval dungeon and alienating them, at this point, would not work in his favor.

"There's one more thing I need from you people and I think it'd be in your best interest to provide it." Dean spoke once again locking eyes with Bobby. The man gave him a cursory glance but kept silent.

This particular issue had crossed Dean's mind right after the doctor informed him of his brother's condition and, unfortunately, he knew there was no way around it. Really, he should have thought about it to begin with, but then again, he had no idea what he was going to walk into once he arrived so how could he of?

"Ok." Jackie voiced slowly, annunciating the phrase strategically. "What is it that you require?"

"Well, first off." Dean said, crossing his arms over his chest. "We're going to need to procure the contraption you have Sam bolted into until we can get him something better. Second, you're going to have to put up with my uncle, here, until I can come back and grab him. Since you didn't give me the heads up that my brother's paralyzed, I didn't plan on needing extra space to transport two wheelchair bound people. If you had told me, I would have been a little more prepared."

Raising his eyebrow, Dean made it a point to glare at the doctor and her juggernaut fiends silently daring them to fight him on his demands.

"That's not gonna be an issue, is it?" The elder brother pressed, his words clear and threatening.

As there was no immediate response, Dean spread his arms in a dramatic V, encircling the room.

"I mean, if you can't spare the chair and all, I could just, oh I don't know, have you're idiot goons stuff my brother in the back of my car and then drive him straight over to the news station. It is channel 5, right? I believe they call themselves channel five investigative news?" Dean placed his hands on his brother's shoulders. "You know, explain why Sam's not able to move on his own, why he can't get his 6'4" ass out of the back of my car?" Dean shrugged. "I think it'd give them something real juicy for the 11 o'clock news?"

Dean checked his watch casually and stuck his pointer finger in the air. "I think there's just enough time to get there. I can see it now. Local gargoyle infested sanatorium strips healthy 26 year old man of faculties and leaves him to fend for himself without use of dignity saving device." Dean winked at the orderlies. "I really should have been a writer don't you think dumb and dumber? That's pretty damn catchy right?"

The eldest Winchester gave a devilish smile, made quick eye contact with his surrogate father, and once again glared at his impromptu audience.

"It would be a great story to start off our legal claim, something to showcase just how appealing it really is? A real human interest story. I can't imagine those generous fat cats that line your pockets would be too happy about it though. Can't see them wanting to give all their cash to a place that strips healthy guys, like my kid brother here, of their faculties and leaves them helpless and dependent. Wouldn't be good for their humanitarian images."

"Nonsense!" A high pitched, bellow radiated into the room, its owner momentarily hidden behind the orderlies and small doctor.

At once, all eyes turned and focused on their newest addition. Pretty much forgotten in the room, Sam felt a sharp spike of fear grip him and cloud his mental focus as he took in the owner of the voice. Standing tall, awkward, and jubilant, was the creator of his current turmoil, Irving. The creature, smug and indigent as ever, taking extra care to meet Sam's gaze and prove, even in a room full of people, he could still convey a message of fear to its intended target.

Engaging the crowd, Irving began to explain his objection. With a sickly sweet timbre his psychotically calm voice continued.

"No way could I allow you to make your poor uncle wait here." He spread his arms. "In this place. I'm almost off shift and I'd be more than happy to take one of the transport vans and drive your brother myself. I'm usually the one that transports patients anyhow, so it'd be nothing for me to do it now. Besides," he put a hand to his chest, "it's the least I could do considering I was the one that found him." He winked at Sam. "Even though I didn't have anything to do with the medication mix-up, I still feel responsible that I couldn't save all of you from this pain."

Irving pulled a dark colored sucker out of his pocket, obliviously shedding the wrapper, and shoved it in his freckled face.

"Sucker, anyone?" He asked, the smirk of superiority never leaving its connection with Sam's frightened eyes.

Jackie was both relived and unsettled by the RN's entrance. Sometimes the guy just didn't have the couth needed to deal with a patient's family.

"I don't think anybody needs a piece of candy right now, Irving, thank you." She replied, not sure where that had come from but focusing back on the task at hand.

Irving shrugged his Gumby like shoulders and comfortably strolled into the room without missing a beat. Nonchalantly, the awkward looking nurse placed his sweaty palm on Sam's shoulder, the smooth operator delivering the younger Winchester a smirk only he could see.

"I feel Sam should leave here with dignity and I'd be more than happy to provide that to him."

The odd, depraved smile that followed Irving's statement set Dean's teeth on edge, causing him to tense even further. Something about this new arrival rubbed him the wrong way, like a rock in your shoe that you just couldn't find. He couldn't place the feeling that placated him but he trusted it rang true.

"Ah thanks," he glanced at the odd little man's nametag, "Irving, but I'm not gonna let anybody take my brother out of here except me, that's non-negotiable."

Sam felt a wave of relief wash over his useless body as Dean's words sunk in. He wasn't going to be left alone, vulnerable and exposed to whatever new, depraved games his tormentor had in store for him. Once again, he would be shielded, blanketed by the safety of his big brother. "Safe."

At Sam's age, and considering his size and advanced training, you'd think the comfort and protection of one's older sibling would be less coveted, but for somebody in the Winchester's line of work, with the bull's-eye currently attached to their back, it was, in fact, a Godsend. Besides, it was one thing to be frozen within your own skin, shadowed by a psychopath in a mental institution surrounded by people, but to be trapped with one in a 2 ton moving piece of rabid machinery, completely helpless and vulnerable, strapped to a wheelchair you couldn't control, and well, let's just say that was not a scenario Sam wanted to entertain.

"Well," Irving began again. "I guess I could take your uncle then."

He shrugged unceremoniously.

"I mean that way no one would have to wait here. What do you say, do we have a deal?"

Bobby and Dean exchanged heavy glances and Dean was just about to refuse when Bobby beat him to the punch, all be it, not the punch he was anticipating.

"Ok, I'll ride shot gun with ya, but we stick close to my nephew's car. I don't want to lose sight of em," Bobby cleared his throat, "you know in case Sam has trouble or something."

The absurdly, malevolent creature wearing the fa├žade of a mild mannered RN, flashed a fantastically creepy grin and deceptively nodded his head.

"Oh trust me, Mr. Singer," He paused, beady little eyes wandering.

"Well Bobby," his eyebrows vee'd as he raised his hand and pointed his finger in the air.

"Hey can I call you Bobby?" Irving inquired, his previous train of thought temporarily interrupted.

Bobby's eyebrows furrowed, but he responded just the same.

"Ah, yeah I guess, Bobby's fine."

"Well," Irving began again, his focus more on the subject in question rather than who he was addressing.

"I wouldn't dream of letting Sam, here, out of my sight." With that, he grasped Sam's shoulder blade, mincingly digging his thick, haggard fingernails into the boy's muscular appendage.

Silently, locked inside his own world as those around him remained unaware, Sam prayed his nightmare would soon be ending. Rationally, however, he knew Winchester luck never gave way to such an easy outcome and he prepared himself for what was likely to be a very long adventure. The least of which would be when he needed to go to the bathroom or have his clothes changed. A mental picture of Dean having to give him a bath assaulted his thoughts and caused Sam to inwardly cringe.

Bobby, with his unique vantage point at 4 feet high, shifted his focus from the man addressing him to his surrogate nephew. The kid seemed alert, all be it completely immobile. After watching Sam's tension around the male nurse, which grew the closer the man got, he was beyond certain there was something to his current line of thinking. The awkward intuition he felt when the guy had appeared out of nowhere now just another brick in the wall of suspicion he was steadily building against the shady character.

There was an underlingly sinister tone with which Irving, the RN, spoke and it sent ice sickle infused chills down both elder hunter's spines, lighting a frigid inferno under their already tingling spidy senses. What the hell was up with this guy and why was he so damn unsettling? Was this a play of something supernatural or were they simply barking up the wrong tree, again!?

Something was up, that was for sure, but neither Bobby nor Dean could pin point exactly what it was. Maybe the guy was just a sick freak who took pleasure in tormenting the mentally challenged? Or maybe, just maybe, considering the circumstances, he was the final piece to a puzzle that had eluded them all for the past few days.

A look of unease rested easily on both men's worn faces, no words needing to be conveyed towards the cause of their apprehension. If this was the thing tormenting Sam, it would be better to get it alone and destroy it where no one else could misinterpret and intervene. That, of course, meant playing along, engaging and entertaining the guys obvious interest in the youngest Winchester, and leading him along just as he'd done them. Soon enough, the time would be right and, human or not, the guy was going down.


Dean, being the impatient brother he was, decided he'd test the waters, just stick his toe in and see what came lurking. He knew Bobby wouldn't agree, but it was HIS brother that had been affected by whatever was going on and it was HIS choice what he did about it.

"So," Dean began clearing his throat, "just so I know my uncle here's in good hands, how long have you worked here? I mean, can't say I remember seeing you the last couple times I've been by to visit my brother and you seem to be really invested in him. I thought I knew everybody that was looking after Sam."

"Oh I've been around, Mr. Singer, just hiding in the shadows as it were." Irving winked at Sam, then paused seemingly freezing in mid thought.

"Mind if I call you by your first name as well, Mr. Singer. I sure hate formalities with people I consider family?"

He stilled as Dean's face morphed from one of discontent to that of angry confusion.

"It's Dean, right?"

"Considering that's my name and all, Yeah dude, have a freaken ball but let's get one thing clear, we are NOT family."

Irving presented a fantastically large grin, overly bleached teeth gleaming in the harsh hospital lighting.

"Fantastic!" He shouted clapping his hands together. "I hate pretences, always makes things feel so," he shuttered, "stuffy, and maybe we're not family exactly but I sure feel like I know you boys, you know?" He asked once more using his beady little eyes to scan the room's occupants. "But considering the special attention I've given Sam here, the creature patted Sam's shoulder, I feel close to it."

Watching the youngest Winchester out of the corner of his eyes, Bobby could have sworn he saw a disgusted grimace quickly flash across Sam's otherwise frozen features. One thing he was sure of, though, was the unabated eye roll that engaged the young hunters hazel orbs. Yep, the junk yard owner concluded, there was definitely something going on that neither he nor Dean had been privy to. Although at this point Bobby was more than convinced the youngest Winchester wasn't so blind to the situation confronting them. If only Bobby had the power to break Sam's forced silence and retrieve the valuable information he knew was buried within the boy's brain.

Jackie cleared her throat, gaining everyone's attention. It had become clear to her not long ago that things were wandering further and further from the matter at hand and she was steadily losing control.

"Well, then, it's all settled. The hospital will loan out it's wheelchair for Sam until something better can be arranged." The women's petite hands pointed at each person in question as she spoke.

"Our very generous float nurse, Irving, will go the extra mile to get all of you home at the same time. And, Sam will be getting the care he so desperately needs as promised by his brother. Under the circumstances we couldn't ask for more, I'd imagine this is still satisfactory with everybody?"

Jackie's clear, yet stressed focus zeroed in on Dean.

"Of course, you're going to have to sign a few papers regarding the wheelchair, you know, so we know where it will be," she took a breath that leaded to a tired sigh, "but other than that and some final discharge documents, I think we are looking at an easy departure. It was already brought to my attention this afternoon that Sam was going to be discharged tomorrow, so everything should be pretty well prepared for his departure."


Dean said clapping his hands together, the volume echoing over bare walls.

"Let's get this party started and my little brother out of this hell-hole you call a hospital, shall we?"

Finally done with all the idiotic formalities, Sam felt his skin crawl as Dean pushed him past Irving. It had only taken 15 minutes to pack everything up, sign the discharge and loan papers, and officially be free, but for Sam it had been waaaaay to long. The creatures penetrating eye's following suit as the convoy moved beyond its direct glare. The younger brother wanting nothing more, in that very moment, than to break the Supernatural pharmaceutical hold he was bound too, grab the bone infused knife his sibling undoubtedly had hidden in his sock kept their when engaging metal detectors, and slit the things slimy throat in one swift, calculated movement of agility. Sam Winchester may not have grown up loving the hunter's lifestyle and training he was exposed to, but he was good at it non the less.

Sure, Sam knew his fantasy wouldn't kill the creature, only a stake of sharpened wood could do that, but it would be pleasing and satisfying none the less. The surprise everybody would be exposed to, considering his sudden and unexpected ability to break the stone hold he was subject to, a fantastic parting gift to the mid-evil mental freak show screwing with them all. But, as Sam had become all too familiar over the last few hours, his aching body was powerless to comply with even the simplest of commands. Any physical desire he retained past breathing, swallowing, and the much appreciated ability he held of blinking now a memory, thanks to the monster lurking inches from the people he cared for most in this world, anything more just a fleeting desire.

Silently, the boy's mind raced with various scenarios Bobby would face once alone with the trickster. Sam knew that although tough and capable, Bobby's useless legs were going to hinder any ability he might hold in fighting the bastard off. Sure Dean would be close by, in the Impala, if Irving chose that moment to take his revenge to a new, sicker level, but as any decent hunter recognized, you only needed a fraction of a second to kill and it would take longer than that to get to the elder man should the need arise.

Sam prayed Irving would leave Bobby alone, after all, his beef was with the Winchester's and their one remaining friend had already endured far too much at the hands of their family's cursed legacy.

One thing was for sure; no matter whom their dysfunctional family came in contact with they were marked, unfairly swept into the dark, perverse pool of despair and tragic fate that followed the Winchester family wherever they went. In Sam's mind, it was clear that if you knew him or his kin, even if it was simply from bumping into them, you were marked, branded for all eternity to suffer; a target doomed to live a fate worse than death and would, ultimately, lose something you held dear.

The thought permeated Sam's tired brain causing him to cringe at the destruction he, alone, had brought to those around him. When would this hell end? When would the curse that saturated him, spilling onto those he loved, end? It seemed that no matter how small his involvement with people, they were bound to be destroyed by knowing him in one manner or another. If he ever needed an example that his reasoning was true; all Sam had to do was think of Bobby. The man had been one of their longest running, most trusted friends and allies, a father really, and he had suffered immensely for it. Then there was Pam, Caleb, Ellen, Joe, Ash, Brady, Jessica, and Pastor Jim just to name a few. The list just went on and on. Really, Sam was surprised anybody still stuck by them, there was only so much one could do with a lost cause. Even if they did have a death wish and gave a damn there had to be a point where self preservation won the epic internal battle and you jumped off the sinking ship before you hit the bottom.

A quick turn of the corner yanked Sam from his internal thoughts and placed him back in the land of the living. Irving was still trailing behind them, Sam could tell by the constant banter the creature exuded as they made their way to the main doors. His sick, placid voice drilling into Sam's eardrums like a sinister ear-wig tunneling into the meaty portion of his tiered synapses seeking solace. Dean was doing his best to keep up a steady pace as he made his way to the Impala and Sam appreciated that greatly. If he could, Sam would be yipping with excitement but, as it stood, he was unable to anything other than trace their path with his eyes.

Once free of the thick, intimidating doors separating the men from the outside world, Sam felt another small amount of dread lift from his weary shoulders. The parking lot, not far from their reach greeted his vision, cracked asphalt decorated with the Impala as it sat gleaming with a wash of dull sunshine now obstructed by angry rain clouds clearly invading the young hunter's line of sight. Next to the black beauty was the van which had originally whisked Sam from the hospital he'd awoken in. The memory of being shut behind the confines of the ugly vehicle stuck in the back of his mind. Sam distinctly remembered seeing Bobby sitting, anxiously, outside of the car, his brother, so he was told, leaning against its pristine doorway, shouting some kind of absurdities at the driver as he shut and locked the door securing Sam in the back. One thing that Sam did appreciate at this point, beside the fact that he would soon be away from the asylum and its mind altering drugs, was the fact that he could finally see and hear his older brother. Even though nobody else, hopefully including the demented bastard that had started this whole nightmare in motion, knew he could see him, Sam was elated to have the privilege of seeing Dean for himself.

As the unlikely entourage made it the last few steps to their awaiting transportation, Dr. Michaels forced the attention back on her. Her dark eyes once again focusing on Dean's velvet green ones, she persisted to have the last word. Although she was between a rock and a hard place and would be crucified if she pressed the issue, she had to give her reservations one more try. She may be bowing out because of money and image, but that didn't mean she couldn't, at least, give it one more attempt at civilized sanity if for nothing more than so she could sleep at night.

"Now, Mr. Singer, you know this is not what I would recommend for your brother. In my medical opinion he should be in a rehabilitation facility. Somewhere he can be properly taken care of, where he can receive the proper treatment to aid in his hopeful recovery. You understand that this is against my medical advice, right?"

Dean felt the small fire he'd ignited at the phone call that had originally brought him to this point kick up another steaming notch.

"You have GOT to be kidding me, right lady? First off you guys take my brother from his hospital room, call him a nut-job, shove him full of anti-psycho pills and lock him behind bars." Dean pressed his fingertips to his temples, then threw his hands dramatically into the sky, a dark laugh escaping his pursed lips. "When the kid has a HEAD INJURY, mind you, and you think anything that comes out of your mouth is going to convince me you have one ounce of sense in that tiny little brain of yours? It's because of this damn nut house that my brother can't lift his own hand to wipe his ass. He's 26 years old for God's sake. He's not even able to lift his own head. Nobody listened to me or my uncle when we told you REPEADILY that my brother wasn't crazy, that it was the damn crack to his skull, and you STILL stuck him hear. Then, to add insult to injury, you pumped him full of fucking drugs that caused a freaking stroke."

Dean shook his head dismissively, "Sorry lady but you got nothing that will change my mind. Understand?" The angry hunter's last word pulled out intensely for full effect.

Dean laughed tensely and grit his teeth, he knew he needed to keep his calm, concentrate his anger on whatever whacked out creature had put them where they currently were, but the rage that had been building in him sense he'd found out Sam and him were the unwilling recruits for angel dress up, was suddenly coming to a not so subtle boil.

"Just be glad I'm too much of a freaking gentleman to deck a chick, or trust me lady, we would be having a whole different kind of conversation right now, got it, honey?"

Noticing the not so subtle anger pouring off the elder brother, Jackie took a few steps backwards. Whelp, she thought to herself, at least she tried, at least now she could put herself to sleep with a clear'ish conscious. Taking a deep breath she spoke once more.

"Ok, Mr. Singer, and don't think for a moment that I am not just as upset as you that this has happened," Dean let a scoff escape his mouth. Jackie ignored it and continued. "But we only did what we did to help your brother, not hurt him. We are extremely sorry that this has happened, and will do whatever we can to aid you and your family in Sam's subsequent recovery. I hope for his and your sake that he is able to recover but you have to understand that he is far from ok. Not only do you have to contend with his injuries from the fall, but his mental illness as well as the stroke. It's not going to be an easy road for any of you and all I want to make clear is that you are going to need help in order to achieve the best results possible. Please don't refuse Sam treatment that could ultimately give him back some of his life." Jackie shook her head. "That's all I'm saying."

Irving walked up and put his large, sweaty palm on Jackie's shoulder. The women although tense and clearly uncomfortable with the situation eased into the giraffe like man's touch affectionately.

"Dr. Michaels has a point boys." He purred. "Nobody wants more than us for Sam to regain full use of his body once again." The creep winked at Sam who was, once again, pushed off to the side of the conversation.

Sam felt his heart skip a beat. Each time the beast locked eyes with him, he felt a shiver reverberate throughout his otherwise helpless body. It was incredibly unnerving to know that something as little as a look provided so much fear and unease for him. With every fiber of his body jumping to frozen attention Sam wanted nothing more than break his paralyzed prison and proclaim to the world that that peculiar string cheese replica of a man was evil and needed a barbed slab of wood thrust into his cold, twisted heart.

Irving, all too aware that his message was received, relished in the energy he gained from the fear his look gave the youngest Winchester. Much better than a triple shot of vivaciously tantalizing sweet cappuccino at the local coffee shop. It was like being the king of a very private, but hilarious joke, he and little Sammy the only ones privy to the punch line. He sensed the two other hunters suspected all wasn't what it claimed to be, but the fun he received from Sam's panicked mind made up for any small tendrils of danger he was currently swimming in. Irving knew he would, eventually, have to slink away from his present pool of fun, but for as long as possible, he would enjoy it and load up on the undeniable power it supplied to him. Thanks to the damn angel if ignorance, Gabriele, this type of fun had been denied to his kind for far too long.

"Thank you, Irving." Jackie stated simply.

Dean shook his head.

"Let's get a few things straight, kay." Dean began his tone leaving no room for interruption or argument.

"One: My little brother is NOT crazy. Two: if you cared about him at all, you never would have force fed him those drugs. And three: I've taken care of my kid brother my entire life and there is nothing I wouldn't do to help him."

Dean's eye's darkened.


Jackie cleared her through, which had suddenly gone surprisingly dry.

"We are not trying to say you would ever hurt your brother, Mr. Singer."

"Deeeaannn." Irving whined, his slithery smile once again adorning his face. "We're all friends here. "Mr. Singer is just soooo formal. As I said earlier we all want what Sam deserves here. Nothing could be further from the truth."

"Whatever." Dean stated pulling his keys from his pocket and unlocking the Impala's door.

Realizing the moment was over, Jackie turned to Irving and gave him a soft smile, clearly giving her non-verbal thanks for handling what could have been a very uncomfortable situation.

"Well, Irving, I will leave you to it. Take care of the Singer's for me and I'll make sure to let the administrator know how generous you've been considering this whole situation. You really are a Godsend."

"Ah Dr. Jackie, you're just to kind." Irving stated, brushing her ivory cheek with his large hand.

"Don't you worry, ma'm, I'll take good care of the Singer's here. They will have my full and undivided attention on their way home. I'll do whatever I can to make sure Sam is well taken care of before I return. You have my word."

Jackie smiled and made one more attempt to calm the men before her.

"As I stated before, the chair is Sam's until you can arrange something more permanent for him. Just bring it back when other arrangements have been made. Also," Jackie glanced at Irving, "Irving has been given the needed toiletries you will require for Sam for the next week. I'm assuming by that point you will have met with a doctor and formulated a plan of personal care for him that will allow him to be properly looked after in concerns of his personal needs. Sam is able to eat on his own, but," she stopped, momentarily taking in the look of sorrow that adorned the helpless young man's eyes, "Sam cannot move and that means his sanitary needs will need to be met by you, Mr. Singer. There is adult underwear in the supplies as well as moisture pads and cleaning products to help you with any mishaps you may encounter."

Dean felt his stomach drop and hit the cold hard ground below him. This had all happened so damn fast and fueled by his bubbling anger, he'd pushed the thought of Sam's impending disability to the back recesses of his mind, but the words Dr. Michaels had just fired at him turned his insides to jello'o. At least, Dean reasoned, Sam couldn't see or hear him so the process of cleaning him up and bathing him would be a little easier on the independent Winchester. One thing Dean had been made aware of the first time his little brother was able to do anything for himself was that Sam was nothing if not independent and there was no way him being bathed by his older brother and put in adult diapers was going to be an easy sell. Hell No!

Swallowing a lump of discontent so big it clogged his brain, Dean spoke, his voice not nearly as strong as it has previously been.

"Yeah, ah well, yeah, good, um." He cleared his throat. "Sam's not gonna need that stuff for very long, so it's not that big of a deal."

Sam felt Illness ravage his insides, not only was he isolated from any kind of communication between himself and the outside world, but it was devastating to watch Irving's eyes light up at Dr. Michaels' statement, the creature's evil joy radiating off him in waves of pure toxic pleasure. Add in the rush of hot, defeated air he felt expel from his brother's lungs at the realization Sam couldn't even piss on his own and he felt about as low as a salted slug.

Unbeknownst to them all, Bobby sat quietly taking in the scene before him, hidden securely by the shadows of his own disability. It was funny how people ignored you when you were strapped to a wheelchair, you were practically invisible. Once again able to observe things from a unique prospective, Bobby did not miss the evil gleam that came from Sam's nurse as Dr. Michaels explained the provisions to the kid's overworked brother. No more denying or second guessing now, one way or another, Irving was in up to his head in this whole ordeal. Now all the eldest hunter had to find out, was in what capacity.

Denial, Jackie thought. Oh well, at least she had done what she could to help Sam and now she was done with it.

"Ok then, I will be going back inside." Jackie looked Sam directly in the eyes. "Sam, if you can understand what I am saying to you, I am truly sorry that this has happened to you, but it seems you are in good hands now, so I will leave you in your brother and uncles capable hands."

She patted Sam's shoulder softly.

"Take care of yourself, Mr. Singer, I hope everything works out for you."

Final A/N: I hope that this was up to standards and I REALLY hope to hear from you all and read your reviews. Thanks to everybody and have a wonderful day! Nicole