Adjust and Move On

Sam was blinded on a hunt. Now they have to pick up the pieces.

Sam hated change. Always had. When they moved, when they switched schools, when they went on hunt after hunt, he had always complained or at least sulked.

It was irony, he supposed, to end up blind. Because everything changed, and yet nothing did.

"Sam, you geek, c'mon. Your fingers are gonna drop off."

Sam didn't quite manage to hide his flinch at Dean's voice. He scowled, then. "I have to learn if I want to keep going to school," he muttered. The indistinguishable little raised dots under his fingertips made him want to punch something.

Dean's hand landed on his shoulder, heavy but kind of comforting. "You've been sitting there for hours. I think we should have some fun."

"Fun," Sam said flatly. "Like what. Watch TV? Play cards?" He knew he was being unreasonable, but he felt like he had a bit of a right to it, at least for a little while.

"I was actually thinking we should come up with a code."

Sam made a face, though he wasn't sure if Dean saw it. "A code? Did Dad put you up to this?"

Dean ruffled his hair, causing Sam to push away and thus fall off of his chair.

"Dude. C'mon, what do you take me for? It'll just be between us. Y'know, a secret," Dean wheedled, even as he picked Sam off the floor.

Sam's defensive walls crumbled. "So . . . what did you have in mind?"

He couldn't see Dean's grin anymore, but he knew it was plastered there, big and wide across his brother's face.

Dean had taken his big brother duty serious ever since he was four and had carried Sam out of a burning building. Most of the time, he thought he'd been pretty awesome at his job. He changed Sam's dirty diapers, he let Sam have the last of the cereal, and he even taught him how to read.

When Sam was blinded, it had felt like Dean's biggest failure. It technically wasn't; both Sam and their father had said so more than once. But still. Sam was blind, and Dean hadn't been able to stop it from happening.

A very small part of Dean liked to whisper how it was nice, Sammy relying completely on him. Dean hated that part of him.

"Hey, hey, easy there, champ. Just take it slow, alright?"

Sam's scowl was as potent as ever. "Slow can't cut it, Dean. I've got to learn how to get around."

Dean huffed. "Yeah, well, can you learn how to do it without killing yourself?" He pulled Sam to his feet—that had been a nasty spill—and looked him over for another laceration or injury of some kind. "You know, I bet that cane could make a good weapon."

"Sure, Dean," Sam said sourly, but Dean caught the way his mouth was trying to hide his smile.

"Soon as you get walking down, we're going to try sparring with this thing," Dean grinned.

"Yeah." Sam shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, Dean?"

"Uh huh?"

"I kinda need to go to the bathroom."

Sam was blushing in embarrassment, and it would've been too easy to make fun of him, but Dean didn't.

"Sure thing. Here." Dean shifted to what was becoming their normal positions—Dean on Sam's right, just barely grasping his elbow to guide him.

"I'm sorry," Sam murmured. Dean looked down at him and didn't have to hide the affection on his face, because Sam couldn't see it. It was freeing and saddening at the same time.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for." He got Sam situated and squeezed his shoulder. "Try not to miss this time, huh Sammy?"

Sam flushed darker red. "Shut up."

One thing that their father had taught them was that any weakness needed to be realized.

Around the time that Sam had turned thirteen, he had realized a weakness of his own, which was a tendency to brood and get depressed. Sam analyzed this weakness, confronted it, and moved on.

Now, however, Sam found it hard to get past any of his worst patches. Used to be, he could distract himself with television or a good book. That wasn't an option, anymore.

"Where's Dad?" he asked, hoping that Dean hadn't snuck out while he hadn't been listening.

"On a hunt," Dean responded promptly.

Sam fell back into contemplation, again. A part of him, when he had found out he was blind for good, had wanted his father to immediately say 'hey, no more hunting for us.' He should've known better than to expect that.

"I can feel the angst all the way from here," Dean piped up. "So tell me what's going on in that big brain of yours."

Sam twitched. "He's gonna keep hunting," he murmured.

"Uh huh . . ."

"You think he'll get rid of me?"

He could feel Dean's frown. "Get rid of you?" he echoed.

Sam shrugged. "I'm a liability." In the silence of the nights so far, whenever he wasn't imagining blowing his own brains out, Sam had come up with a multitude of reasons his father may want him gone. He could be left with a friend, like Pastor Jim, or a boarding school. Sam wasn't sure which one John would find a better option.

He jumped at Dean's hand on his face. "Hey. You listen close, Sam. We're a family, alright? We stick together. And if Dad even thinks about suggesting anything like that, I'll leave with you, you hear me?"

He nodded solemnly, even though he really wasn't sure. "Okay."

Sam woke up, gasping and terrified. As Dean watched, Sam automatically tried to look for Dean in the darkness, before slumping and pulling the covers up to his chin.

"Sam?" Dean asked.

Sam didn't respond, so Dean took the initiative and began moving over.

"Nightmare?"

He nodded. Dean got onto Sam's bed, lying next to his little brother and trying not to make it too awkward.

"Wanna talk about it?"

Sam shook his head.

"Okay, then." Dean scooted close enough so that his shoulder was brushing Sam's smaller one.

Sam asked hoarsely, "why are you over here?"

"Cuz." Dean kept his voice casual. "Before, whenever you had a nightmare, I could just tell you to look over and know I was there. That's not an option, anymore, so here I am."

"You don't have to," Sam whispered.

"Yeah, well, I want to."

Dean relaxed when Sam finally stopped lying there, stiff as a board, and pulled in close to Dean, fisting a hand in his sleep shirt. "Dad always said that the dark is where the monsters come from," Sam sounded uncharacteristically nervous. "Only now, the dark's all around."

Dean slung an arm over him. "That's why you have me, little brother. That's why you have me."

A/N: I needed some schmoop. Sue me.

Also, is anyone on Archive Of Our Own? I'm not sure how to go about browsing and finding good authors on there, and would love some advice :)