Outside Looking In
Sam blinded by a hunt, the Winchesters look for solutions.
Mark rubbed his eyes and fumbled for the phone. He wasn't on call, so he had no idea who would be calling him at—he looked at his clock blearily—2:00 am.
NP on duty was Donna, hopefully. She was the most short-winded of the bunch. "Donna?" he mumbled. "What is it?"
"Mark, this is John Winchester."
At the gruff voice, Mark sat up straight, the hunter's name automatically setting off a rush of adrenaline. "John? What's wrong?"
"My son. He was injured in a hunt, and I need to take him to someone. You're close."
"Of course. Does he need the ER?"
"Sweetie, what's wrong?"
"Work," Mark mouthed to his wife and she settled back to sleep easily. Mark got up quietly.
There was a strange hesitation over the line. "No. This isn't . . . this is more like a curse."
Mark's world expanded a little more. All he knew about were ghosts, and he shivered. "Look, John, if you can, give me more to go off of so I can prepare."
"Some ancient creature got the drop on Sam and was in the middle of performing a ritual when we got there. Took away his eyesight, so he's blind."
Mark hissed through his teeth, one-handedly pulling on the slacks he had worn that day. "Right. Are his eyes bleeding, is there any external trauma?"
"No. They're white, though. His eyes . . . they're completely white."
This was far beyond his pay grade. Mark cringed, running through the little he knew from his ophthalmologist friend and med school days. "Sure you can't go to a specialist?"
"No, Mark. This isn't something that can get out."
"I hear ya." Mark felt around for his ID and keys, shoving his feet into loafers. "I'll be at the hospital in five minutes. How long 'til you get here?"
"Give us fifteen."
"Alright. Try and act like it isn't an emergency, get your kid in through the front doors. I'll be down there to avert any suspicion."
Mark got to the hospital in record time, hanging around the front. The Chevy Impala that was so distinctive roared up, and Mark momentarily flashed back to the terror from a year ago. A kid jumped out of the car, and Mark shook the thoughts away.
"Dad, go park, I've got him," the kid barked at the front seat, before turning to the backseat and dragging another from within.
"You the doctor?"
Mark nearly jumped at the self-assured and sharp way he was spoken to by the boy.
"Yeah," he said. "That Sam?"
The smaller one was practically limp in his brother's arms. "You help him," the elder said fiercely.
"Carry him like he was asleep," Mark ordered. The younger was small enough that they could at least make it to the elevators without attracting suspicion from the nurses on call or the video cameras.
"C'mon, Sammy, I gotcha." The kid hoisted Sam into his arms, the smaller body instantly wrapping arms and legs around him like it was instinct.
Mark swiped them in, glancing at the boy at his side. "What's your name, kid?"
"Dean," he responded shortly.
"Alright, Dean. What can you tell me about the circumstances?"
Dean grunted a little at Sam's weight and wrapped his arms more securely around him. "He was strung up, and that thing—" Mark was startled by the absolute venom coloring Dean's voice "—was painting some symbol on Sammy's eyelids. There was another symbol on his forehead too, Dad thinks it was to keep him paralyzed."
Poison? Some kind of supernatural poison to make him blind? Mark bit his lip in thought, punching the elevator number absently.
"There'll be an empty exam room. I'll take him there," he decided. "Once we get there, go out and get your dad. I'll come out when we are through."
Sharp green eyes scanned Mark, the focus in them almost scary. "You get him better," Dean said lowly, and Mark could swear it was a threat.
"I'll do my best," he promised, letting them into a room and switching on the light.
"Here, Sammy."
Mark busied himself with washing his hands while Dean set Sam down on the examination table.
"You're gonna be fine, okay little brother? I'll be right back, I've gotta go get Dad."
"Don't go, Dean, please." The kid's voice was hardly more than a whisper.
"I told you, Sammy, I'll be right back. Be strong, okay?" Dean's hand brushed the side of Sam's face in a tender gesture that seemed almost ill-fitting with his leather jacket and rough demeanor.
Mark noted Sam's hand clenching on his leg, like all he wanted to do was reach out to Dean, but the boy let his brother go without comment.
"Alright, Sam. I know you're probably freaked, so I'm going to talk you through this, okay?"
Sam nodded, chin jutting out. Mark felt his heart break slightly at this kid's bravery—he had once sworn to never have kids, being a pediatrician in the PICU had him seeing enough pain to know the implications, but for a child like this . . .
"Can you see anything? Shadows, shapes, any light at all?"
"It's all black," Sam said, his voice wobbling a little.
"I'm going to examine your eyes now, Sam. I'm putting my hand on your face," Mark said calmly.
Sam still flinched slightly as Mark nudged his chin upward. He shone his light in Sam's eyes, finding nothing but opaque whiteness. It wasn't a simple cataract . . . the kid's irises were even gone. But there was no external trauma to explain any of that.
Mark ran a few more tests, each time growing more and more anxious. There was no sign of Sam's ability to see even being a possibility . . . it was as if he had been born blind. The extraocular muscles were functioning, but Mark feared the optic nerve was somehow damaged. Possibly even the neurons in his brain.
"Am I permanently blind?"
Sam's soft voice startled Mark, he had been so deeply in thought.
"I'm a little out of my depth here," Mark said honestly. "This was some kind of . . . curse, your father said. So maybe through some kind of curse breaking . . ."
"That probably won't work," Sam said flatly. "The creature was leeching people's energy and abilities. It died after taking my eyes."
Mark swallowed. "Well, I don't know anything about that, as I said. Medical healing is out of the question, though I will advise your father to take you to a specialist anyway."
"Can you get Dean, please?" Sam's voice cracked a bit, and Mark nodded before remembering Sam was blind.
"Yeah. Hang in there, okay?"
Mark left the kid, feeling all kinds of low. He broke the news gently to the older brother and father, Dean immediately demanding to see Sam. He watched the kid go—how old was he, sixteen?—and turned back to the father.
"Sam's going to be in for a rough time. I still think you should find a specialist, but I feel that they'll think the same thing. Medically, there's nothing we can do."
John bowed his head momentarily. "I'll look for a way in our area of work, but I doubt my success," he mumbled, mostly to himself. Mark responded anyway.
"In any case, I would recommend helping Sam adjust. It will be a difficult process. The best idea would be to get a trained professional to help Sam learn how to get around, how to read Braille, and the numerous other areas that come with being blind."
John nodded. "Thank you for your help, Mark."
They left without much ado, the older brother's arm wrapped around the younger.
Mark watched them go and felt the dull sense he always had after a failure. Sometimes, he hated his job.
A/N: I really wish I could get some other fics started. Not that I don't love writing Unseen, I just want some change, y'know? Tons of ideas, just no spark.
Well, I'll let it stew for a while. This Unseen installment'll be actually a couple chapters, from different people's view after Sam is initially blinded.
Let me know what you think!