Hey, everyone! We're Pixie and Mimzy. Welcome to our first collaborative story here!

Disclaimer: We don't own any of these characters, but we thank CW profusely for creating them so we could have our story fun.

Notes: This is NOT a real-person fic. We are not using the actors' names (such as Jensen and Jared) as anything more than names the fandom will be able to easily tie with characters' faces so as to avoid confusion. The families in this story are completely fictitious, so we have changed their names to avoid confusion with people outside the SPN-verse. Additionally, the families don't exactly… well, you'll just have to read the story.

Each chapter will be titled with a song we felt represented it, either through lyrics, music, or just the song title. This fic has been in progress for a long time, and we're already well on the way to completing it. Anyone who wants to follow the storyline can be assured of a regular update every Tuesday, unless something comes up. This is almost novel-length story, however, so if you'll be joining us, be prepared for a long ride!

Warnings for this chapter: Some bad language, because you know this fandom, and really inaccurate descriptions of what happens in a psych ward.

"Crazy Train" - Ozzy Osbourne

The first thing Dean was aware of was the throbbing pain in his head. He groaned a little as he started to come to. What the hell had happened last night? He didn't remember getting drunk, or knocked unconscious... "Wha...?"

"Hey," said a familiar voice from beside him. Dean forced his eyes open, wincing at the bright overhead lights, searching for its source.

He tried to sit up, wincing, but couldn't. It took a moment for his muddled mind to process the situation and realize that he was being held down by padded restraints. That's when he realized something was wrong. Really wrong, even by Winchester standards.

"The hell...?" Anger and a hint of panic warred for dominance in his tone.

"Sorry about that," said the voice.

Slowly, a face swam into focus, and Dean struggled to focus his eyes, make out the features. Whoever this sick sonofabitch was, he was in for a real ass-kicking when Dea- Wait. Was that...

"Sammy?" As Dean's vision cleared, he found Sam sitting down next to him, wearing plain white scrubs, which only added to Dean's confusion and deep sense of shit shit shit, this is not good.

Sam sighed and shook his head, looking almost a bit disappointed. "My name is Jared… You remember that, don't you?"

Dean frowned. Wait, what? He must really still be out of it... "What're you talking about, Sam? What's going on here?"

"It's Jared…" Sam said again - seemingly unaware that the statement made no sense, speaking slowly, as if to a small child. "You've had another one of your fits…"

Oh, Dean was so not in the mood for…whatever the hell this was. "C'mon, get these damn things offa me," he growled, struggling against the restraints. "We gotta bust outta here." And then figure out what exactly was going on, why his brother was dressed like some sort of nurse, and who on earth was Jared? Maybe Sam had gotten hit on the head or something...

Sam frowned, shaking his head and giving him a scolding look. "Hey, there will be no busting out of anywhere, Mr. Ackles."

Wait, what?

He yanked against the irritatingly sure restraints, really starting to get angry now. "Mr. Ackles? Sam, it's me, Dean."

Sam sighed again. "Okay, let's try this again. My name is Jared. Your name is Jensen. Jensen Ackles. We are not brothers, and never have been, despite what you think."

Dean stared at him, raising an eyebrow. "Sam, you are officially one apple short of a pie. And that's coming from the dude tied to the bed."

Sam only rolled his eyes, like Dean was the one being unreasonable. "You know we don't like using the cuffs on you, Mr. Ackles. You're only restrained because you physically attacked the warden."

Dean blinked. The warden? There was a warden? "I'm in prison?!"

Sam's face was sympathetic. "More like a... mental asylum."

Oh, great. Just great.

"A looney bin?! Seriously?!" This was officially as bad as Tuesday's got.

"It's for your own good."

Dean yanked on the stupid restraints again. "Let me up."

Sam sighed. "Mr. Ackles, you haven't taken your medication today, and you're having one of your delusions again. Or you were when you woke up, at least. You're a reasonable man. You understand I can't."

"I don't need any damn crazy pills!" Dean said loudly, glaring at his brother. "There's nothing wrong with me, Sam, dammit!"

And Sam, stubborn as ever, insisted, "My name is Jared!"

Well, two could play that game. "My name is Dean!"

It was obvious that Sam was starting to get frustrated. "Your name is Jensen Ackles, alright? You have a loving family and friends back home who are all very worried about you. Right now, though, you're stuck here at Deerwater Psychiatric Institution until you're better and we're able to send you back home."

Dean just stared. "...What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about your real life, Mr. Ackles," Sam stated, taking a deep breath as if to calm himself. "The one I am trying to eventually return you to. Come on, try to remember. I know you can." His brother's voice was patient, soothing, as if he were trying to coax a scared animal out into the open.

Remember what, exactly? As far as Dean was concerned, his memory was pretty good, considering. If he could just remember how he'd gotten this damn headache… or how he'd ended up here in the first place… then he'd be set. Demons, maybe? A djinn wouldn't be giving him such a crappy fantasy…

When he didn't answer, too caught up in his own thoughts, Sam seemed to give up, sighing sadly. "I'll go grab your medication…"

…Oh, hell, no.

At that, Dean started to struggle anew. "What?! No! I'm not taking any crazy pills from demons. They've freaking brainwashed you, Sammy!"

"I'm not Sammy!" Sam practically shouted, shaking his head and walking out of the room, muttering to himself. Dean took the few minutes of alone time to try to wrestle his arms free, but no dice. All too soon, Sam emerged from the hall a couple minutes later, holding a small paper cup and wearing his all-too-familiar bitchface.

Dean glared at him stubbornly. "No." Not happening. Nuh-uh.

"You have to take these, Mr. Ackles." And there was the tone again. The tone that made it sound like Sam was the patient parent, and Dean was the stubborn, bratty five-year-old. Also known as the tone that made Dean want to claw someone's (Sam's) eyes out, but y'know.

"Stop calling me that!"

"Fine. Jensen. That better?"

No. No, it was not.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Not really."

"I'm not going to support your fantasy world by calling you 'Dean,' Jensen," Sam told him. "I'd get fired. And it's not going to help you at all."

Sam was stubborn, but he'd learned it all from Dean. He scoffed. "Well, I'm not gonna take your crazy pills until you do."

There was a definite edge to Sam's voice now, which really shouldn't have made Dean as satisfied as it did. "Jensen… Just take the pills."

He raised an eyebrow. "And become a mindless zombie like you? You don't even remember your own name!" Oh, when he found the asshole behind this...

Sam stared at him for a moment incredulously, shaking his head. "My name is Jared; I have a loving wife and son, and… I can't just call you Dean!"

"Why not?" Dean asked. This was really getting ridiculous. Even if Sam didn't remember anything, this was pushing it. "It's my name." He sighed, settling reluctantly on a compromise. "How about this? I call you what you want; you call me what I want; I take your damn pills. Fair?"

Sam seemed to mull it over for a few moments, before nodding. "...Fine. Dean, take your pills. Please."

Dean might be willing to compromise on some things, but taking a cup full of wacko drugs from a zombified brother was not one of them. And even if it was, this was just plain humiliating. The real Sam would never let him live it down if 'Jared' hand-fed Dean. "Let me up. I can't take 'em lying down with no hands."

Sam nodded, relieved that Dean seemed to be giving in, and set the cup and pills down on a table, finally unsnapping the cuffs. "There. Happy now?"

Well, not exactly happy, but happier. Dean pushed himself up, rubbing his chafed wrists gingerly. "Thanks, Sa—Jared." Whatever. He'd play along with Sam's stupid alter-ego for now. Mostly because he couldn't figure anything out strapped to a bed like a goddamn psych patient.

"No problem. Just… Don't attack me like you did Dr. Sheppard, alright, buddy?"

...Dr. Sheppard? Who? Finally, something that could help him start to figure this stupid… whatever it was out.

But seriously, that tone had to go. "I'm not five, dude. I'm not your 'buddy.'" He reached for the pills and popped them into his mouth, holding them under his tongue as he took a swig of water - that actually helped his pounding head, even if he'd never admit it.

Sam nodded, even going as far as to smile a bit. "Thank you."

Dean rolled his eyes, discreetly spitting the pills into a potted plant as Sam turned away to throw the cup out. Oldest trick in the book, Sammy.

"So…" He looked at Sam, studying his expression for any small clues. "What do you want with me? What's the endgame here?" Treat this like any other job; that's what he had to do.

Sam raised an eyebrow. "There is no endgame. We want to help you get over your delusions. Rehabilitate you. Send you back to your wife and family. From what I've heard, they miss you very much."

"I don't have delusions, Sam!" He sighed as Sam opened his mouth, clearly about to correct him. "Jared! Whatever!"

Sam shook his head slowly, pityingly. "The pills should kick in soon… They'll help."

"...What'd you drug me up with?" Dean asked out of curiosity. Sure, he didn't know all that much about psych drugs, but maybe he'd get lucky...

Of course Sam wasn't gonna give him a straight answer. "Medication, that's what," his brother told him, and Dean noticed that his tone was considerably lighter than it had been before. "To help your poor brain. And hopefully stop you from acting like an idiot. 'Dean' is...You act like a five-year-old sometimes, you know. With your air guitar and all that."

...Well, at least Sam's opinion of Dean's hobbies hadn't changed.

Dean shot him a playful look. "Hey! My air guitar rocks! Asia, man. That's not crazy. That's rock 'n roll."

Sam rolled his eyes, grinning slightly and sitting down in a chair next to the bed. "Whatever you say, 'Dean.'"

The scene was painfully familiar - a hospital bed and a chair, and brotherly bickering… but Dean couldn't take the time to enjoy it. The sooner he ditched Sam, the sooner he could figure out what was going on here and change everything back to normal. "What, you planning on camping out?"

A small laugh told him that Sam knew exactly what he was thinking - and was having none of it. "Not just going to leave you alone, dude. Knowing 'Dean,' until that medication kicks in you'd try to break out. Again. And then get tazed by the security guards. Again."

Dean glared, but quickly realized he needed to be able to fake having taken the pills to ever get Sam off his ass. "How much longer?"

Sam checked his watch. "Maybe… ah... twenty minutes?"

"And then I can go out again?" Crazy or not, this whole 'babysitter' thing was really starting to grate on Dean's nerves.

"Under supervision."

Of course. Dean rolled his eyes. "I am a grown man, Jared."

Did his brother just chuckle at him?! Oh, Sam was so gonna get it after Dean saved their hides… "Yeah, but you're a rather immature one."

And so Dean did the only logical thing to do in his situation. He stuck his tongue out at Sam, who, frankly, deserved it.

Sam scoffed. "Really?"

Dean smirked, childishly pleased at Sam's annoyance. "Hey, when in Rome, right? I got twenty minutes of excused crazy."

Oh, Sam was so amused. That was totally a smile; he couldn't hide it, not from Dean. "Ha, fine. But your meds had better kick in soon, man. I can't put up with you all day… Not like this, anyway."

Dean sighed, running a hand over his face. Clearly Sam wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, he might as well try and get some answers from him. "You, ah… you said I have a family?"

Sam smiled softly, clearly relieved at the change of topic. "Yeah. Beautiful wife, Camari. A daughter named Keegan."

Seriously? Seriously? Dean couldn't hide a snicker. "You kidding me? What kinda names are those?" At Sam's stern look, he quickly turned his laugh into an admirably convincing coughing fit. "I mean. I'm sure I love them very much." God, it was hard to say that with a straight face...

"Yes, you do. You and Camari are both actors." Sam reached over to the bedside table and handed him a photo. His own face grinned up at him from the red carpet, his arm draped around a really hot lady's waist, a little girl holding his hand. "For a while, they just thought 'Dean' was a character you were trying to figure out how to play properly. They just thought you'd been taking work home. Acting as a joke. 'Till you got this idea that you were single and...Well…" Sam trailed off, his face reddening a little on Dean's behalf.

Finally, something useful. Dean frowned, mind working despite the pain still stabbing through his temples. "Really...? What show was Dean for, did they say?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't really know. Sorry."

Dean nodded slowly. "Right... right. Hey, you got any kids, Jared?"

Sam nodded, smiling slightly. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. His name's Scott." The love and pride in Sam's voice was blatantly obvious, and Dean realized with a pang that his brother truly believed that he had a son.

Whoever was doing this was going to pay - slowly and painfully - for brainwashing his brother into thinking he actually had a nice apple pie life, complete with a wife and kid. Sure he was happy now, but eventually…

Dean cleared his throat. "How old is, uh, Scott then?"

"He just turned six," Sam said, and Dean did his best not to imagine Sam in a nice house, playing with a little six-year-old kid with his shaggy brown hair and baby-faced grin.

"So why aren't you at home, taking care of him?"

Sam laughed. " My wife's got it covered, and Scott's at school now anyway. I leave here, who's going to look after you, huh? Dr. Sheppard practically has the image of you attacking him with that plastic fork seared into his brain. I don't think he ever wants to hear the words 'demon' or 'Crowley' ever again."

...Crowley?! Crowley was involved in this? Oh, not good...

Dean looked down, feigning shame. He really could be an actor; he was playing Sam like a fiddle. A perfectly timed sigh, and… "Hopefully, I'll get over these delusions soon. Then I can get back to my life, y'know? And don't let me tie you down. You don't have to feel guilty about me being a wack-job." He gave a sad little smile, looking as pathetic and miserable as he could manage.

And Sammy fell for it; of course he did, the big old bleeding heart. One of Sam's huge warm hands came down on his shoulder, squeezing gently to offer comfort. "Hey, it's not a problem. You're the most interesting patient I've ever had. And I once took care of a guy who thought apples were alive, the sky was purple, and that little midgets dances around his bed when he slept." He offered a tentative smile and a small laugh. "So, you know, that's saying something."

Dean shrugged the hand off, still not meeting his brother's eyes. "I… I'm sorry, Jared... I just... I don't even know what happened. I thought these were stopping…"

Sam sighed sadly. "I know, Jensen… You're getting better. You are. This is perfectly normal. Yeah, you have a problem, but that doesn't mean you're not a person." He smiled a little, clearly hoping to cheer Dean up. "Your wife's planning on visiting this afternoon, remember that? We were talking about it yesterday. She's bringing Keegan, too."

Play along, just… just play along for now… Dean returned the small smile. "Yeah, I remember that now." He looked away, pushing his voice to break. "I hate them seeing me like this…" He let his voice trail off, rubbed his face as if to clear his head, and plastered a clearly fake grin on. "Whatever. I can hold it together for an afternoon, right?"

His dopey brother gave him this huge supportive grin that'd really be comical in any other situation. "Yeah, 'course you can. Even 'Dean' isn't all that bad, when he isn't flirting with all the female nurses… You tell 'Dean' to keep his hands to himself, yeah?"

Dean chuckled, pretending to be embarrassed but really a little amused. Apparently he was a real chick magnet even in this wacko world, too. "I keep telling 'Dean' to go get lost, but he seems to have a mind of his own. Who do I have to apologize to this time, besides… ah... Dr. Sheppard?"

Sam's brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to remember. "Well… No one much. Oh - Except the janitor. You accused him of being Lucifer. I think he's a bit upset with you. But it's fine, man. Really."

Now that was interesting… Dean shrugged again. "Yeah, whatever. I should probably let him know we're all good." He glanced up. Was Sam gonna leave him alone now? It was pretty obvious that Dean had managed to convince him that the medication had kicked in and he was now Jensen. "I… ah... think I need to take a walk. Clear my head a bit before my family comes. That cool?"

"Sure thing," Sam said with a smile, and Dean grinned with the relief. "I could come with, if you want, but… Like you said, you're a grown man, after all. Despite what some of the patients think, this is not Hell."

Dean couldn't stop a grim chuckle. "Been there, done that, right?"

Sam laughed, too. "Suppose Dean has, at least." Dean stood up, stretching his sore muscles, stopping at the door as he heard his brother's quiet voice. "...But you know... I would have been proud."

Dean frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I… I would have been proud. If you… y'know. If you were actually my big brother."

The statement caught Dean off guard, and he blinked. "Me... Jensen, or me, Dean?"

"Both, I guess." Sam looked down, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "I mean, Dean's not that bad when you get to know him. Real, no. But, uh… All things considered, he's sorta cool…" He coughed, clearly uncomfortable. "And, uh, you're a pretty great guy yourself, Jensen."

Dean flushed, actually embarrassed at Sam's confession - even if his brother did have a bunch of fake memories stuffed into his head and happened to be under the impression that Dean was nuts. "Yeah, well...For a wacko."

Sam chuckled a bit. "Yeah, for that."

At a loss for what to say, Dean nodded a little before leaving the room. He didn't have any more time to chat with his amnesiac of a little brother. He needed to figure out what was going on.

So we hope you enjoyed that! The second chapter will be posted next Tuesday, if all goes well. Be sure to review and tell us what you thought of it! - Mimzy and Pixie