Day By Day
For Hacked It Out and Fell's prompt: Sam's first serious injury after being blinded. Could be from a hunt or just a day to day accident.
Splintered Fears
Sam was no stranger to fear. It followed him to bed as he thought about the types of monsters that hunted during the night. It whispered in his ear as he heard people talking about poor little children and bruises. It laughed at him when he stumbled.
Terror, though. Well, Sam was no stranger to it either, but that didn't mean he was used to it.
"Dude, that's so your fault."
"The punk was in my way, I didn't see him!"
"Well, duh, he wasn't going to see you."
Sam's ears were ringing. Why were they ringing? That was where the terror came in, he thought vaguely. Not knowing things. Everything was off-kilter and filled with—
Sam's leg moved and he bit back a scream. His breaths came in quick, sobbing succession.
"Did someone call 911 already?"
"Go get a teacher, idiot!"
"Dean," Sam whimpered. "Dean?"
Strange voices accosted him from all sides, and Sam flinched back as a strange hand fell heavy on his shoulder.
"Hey kid, the paramedics are here. Just stay calm."
Terror reared its ugly head and blanketed him as strange people began manipulating Sam, holding him down. Sam yelled for his brother, but he never came.
"He's panicking, hold him down, now!"
"No," Sam cried out, but everything was heavy and painful and his lungs were burning . . . and then the silence descended.
There was a beeping. And a low, hoarse diatribe that had a lot of swear words in it. For a moment, Sam tried to open his eyes to see where he was.
But right. He was blind. It had been a year, and Sam had thought he would have been used to it.
But unfortunately not.
His tongue wouldn't work, and instead Sam tried to move enough to get someone's attention, but he was in a strange haze.
"Sammy?"
Sam relaxed the second he heard his brother's voice. Dean was there. Everything would be okay.
"Sam, can you hear me? Move your hand."
With a monumental effort, Sam managed a twitch.
"Okay, that's good. That's real good, Sammy. You're gonna be fine."
Sam wanted to know why he couldn't move, but only managed to make his face twist a little.
"Yeah, I know. You're using that big brain of yours to try and figure things out, huh? Well we're in the hospital, cuz some moronic kid whose lungs I'm going to rip out . . . well, he knocked you down a flight of stairs. Bit of a concussion going on, plus a broken leg."
A broken leg. Sam felt fear lapping at his mind again, and he grunted in an attempt to deny it.
"Hey, don't you freak on me, Sam, or the doctor's'll kick me out."
Sam swallowed, still tense and unhappy.
"Pinky promise I'll read some of those boring books you like, too. Huh? How 'bout that?"
Sam still couldn't quite speak, but managed to reach out a little with his hand, relaxing as his brother's familiar palm landed in his own.
"Go back to sleep, Sammy. You're safe."
The cast was thick and unwieldy.
Sam hated it.
"Dude, you get to miss school, what's your problem?" Dean asked.
Sam scowled. "I'm stuck barely moving, Dean. Tell me you wouldn't be going out of your mind."
"Yeah," Dean conceded. "I hear you."
"Might as well shoot me in the head and make things easier for everyone," Sam muttered.
"Whoa! Hey, hey, hold up there." Sam's arm was grabbed in a bruising grip. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing," Sam said sullenly. "Don't worry about it."
"Yeah, like I won't worry about that. Sammy, c'mon. Don't you trust me?"
Sam fidgeted. "Yeah."
"Then talk to me. You don't want to die, do you?"
"No," Sam muttered. "I'm just . . . useless. Even more than usual."
"I don't care about that, Sammy." Sam felt the couch depress where Dean sat down. "Are you saying I'm a bad brother? Cuz I'm totally gonna be offended if that's what you're saying."
Sam shook his head.
Dean's hand brushed Sam's hair away from where it hung low—Sam tried to keep it that way so it would hide his eyes. "I promise you, you are never a burden, Sammy."
Awkwardly, Sam reached out for his brother, relief flowing through his bones—whole and broken—as Dean's grip was sure and comforting. "Thanks, Dean," he mumbled into Dean's shirt. "You're the best."
"I know, right?"
Sam smiled, and the fear melted away.
