John stared at his oldest incredulously as the boy motioned him outside the door of the motel room and closed it gently behind them.

"What the hell happened at that mall, Dean?" John hurled words like weapons. "Who am I going back there to kill?" The older man was shaken and was having trouble hiding it. When both boys had arrived back at the motel, his oldest had freakin' tears in his eyes and his youngest ... well, Sam had limped a silent beeline for the bathroom and locked himself in, but not before John heard a single sob that he'd been unable to smother.

It was the saddest damned thing John had seen in a while, and he was going to make some asshole pay for the free show.

Dean shook his head to let his father know he needed a minute. He turned away and used both palms flat against his eyes to wipe away the tears. Then he took a shuddering breath, whipped out a handkerchief and blew his nose. When he was ready, he turned back to his father.

"Who did this, Dean?"

Dean's voice sounded rusty, unused. "Some guy at the glasses store. He … uh … he accused Sam of shoplifting. Said some really mean shit."

John frowned. "Words, Dean. Those are just words. That's what has Sam all upset?"

Dean shook his head.

"What then? Did you have a run-in with the cops? Do we need to leave?"

Dean looked away. "Dad … did you know they make glasses that can correct color blindness?"

John stopped short, felt all the breath leave his body. "What?"

Dean nodded, "They do. And Sam, he found a pair and put them on."

John felt a smile forming. "Did they work?"

Dean snorted, "Oh yeah, the fuckers worked." He blew his nose again. "They cost almost $4,000, but they worked."

John felt water forming in the corners of both eyes. "Well, shit."

An hysterical laugh bubbled up out of Dean, "I know, right?" He stuffed the rag back in his pocket. "Sam … he just wanted to see, you know? Wanted to look around, but the asshole guy, he thought Sam was trying to steal the ugly things."

John breathed deep, "He made Sam give them back?"

Dean shook his head. "Called him a no good shoplifter, told him to get a job. THEN he snatched the things right off Sam's face while the kid …"

John's lips formed a thin line. "What, Dean? While Sam what?"

"Sam, he was just starin' at me. I think … I think he was tryin' to commit me to memory or something, then the guy …" Dean turned away, his shoulders shaking. "It's so fuckin' unfair!" He snarled, his fist crashing against the cheap metal of the door.

John blinked rapidly and looked away, running his tongue across suddenly dry lips. He dropped a comforting hand on his son's shoulder, and the two stood there, feeling like they'd just lost the biggest war of all.

###

Sam sat on the edge of tub, his bad leg stretched straight out in front of him, and silently wondered how much more disappointment he was expected to take without just giving up.

Why did he have to ever step foot inside that optical store? Why had Dad's glasses that he'd owned for every bit of 8 years suddenly decided to break, and why had Dad, who was famous for his procrastination when it came to self-care, suddenly decided it was time to have them fixed?

And why did Joanie have to tell him the words he'd longed to hear for every second of every day of his pitiful life?

Joanie.

Sam smiled and closed his eyes. He could still see her, though he had no idea what colors she'd worn. He thought maybe a blue smock and a yellow name tag. And her hair had been nearly the same color as Dean's.

Looking at her had been like looking straight into a rainbow.

And Dean.

Sam swiped angrily at the single tear that shook its way loose from his lashes and began the silent journey down his left cheek.

Dean was just … he was just …

Beautiful.

Sam had always known, by the way other people reacted to him, that Dean was handsome. There'd always been lines of girls watching and waiting at any school they'd ever attended. And Sam could see that his brother kept himself together in a nice, tight package.

Dean in full technicolor, though … that took Sam's breath away. He could have looked at him for forever and never grown tired.

Sam struggled to his feet and studied his reflection. He would have liked to have seen himself before …

And Dad too.

Sam sighed.

$3000.

He snorted. Yeah, that wasn't happening anytime soon.

He stared at himself in the mirror and gave the wrecked kid staring back a good talking to.

"Suck it up, Sam. Lots of people have to deal with worse things than just being color blind. You could be all alone out there. Could be an orphan or something. No Dad. No Dean. You could be missing an arm or a leg. Could have some kind of terminal disease that's painful as well as deadly."

He sighed again. Reaching for the last clean washcloth, he ran it full of icy water and pressed it to his face. The shock felt good - helped to ground him. He took a shuddering breath and started when a knock sounded on the bathroom door.

"Sammy? Put it away, man. Me and Dad wanna talk to you." Dean's voice.

Sam snorted. His brother always did have a way with words.

"Gimme a minute." Sam advised, steeling himself. Damn. This was embarrassing. It was bad enough that Dean had watched him go to pieces. He'd meant to have it under control before Dad caught him blubbering like a baby.

Taking one last look at himself in the mirror, Sam hoped most of the redness was gone from his face. Shrugging and resigning himself to yet another thing that was out of his control, he took a deep breath and opened the door.

###

John glanced up as his youngest slipped onto the bed nearest the bathroom, and he felt a moment of pride. The kid had himself completely together in the face of this latest debacle. He even looked sheepish. The older man smiled and moved to sit next to the teen.

"So … how's the foot?" John went for icebreaker.

Sam sniffed. "Good. It's fine."

"So the worms helped?" John joked.

Sam felt a smile creep onto his face, "Yeah. They helped."

John sighed. "So … Dean tells me you found something you wanted for your birthday?" He placed a hand on Sam's knee. "Son. I'm … I'm sorry I … you know … missed that. I know it was a big deal to you."

Sam felt his face tinge pink. He shrugged, staring hard at the floor. "It's no biggie. M'not a kid anymore."

"No." John smiled. "No, you're not a kid anymore. You're almost grown, Sam. And I know I don't say it often enough, but I'm proud of you, son."

Sam stopped breathing for a moment. He looked up, confused. He'd just been crying like a two-year-old in front of Dean and Dad, and Dad was proud of him?

John read his mind. "That had to be a blow, Sam. I get it. Dean gets it. You got yourself together anyway. That takes discipline."

John shoulder bumped him. "Right?"

"Yes, Sir." Sam whispered. "I guess."

John sat silent for a moment. "We're gonna figure this out, okay?"

Sam looked up, "Figure what out?"

"The glasses." John stood, determined. "We'll find a way, Sam. I promise you. We'll get you those glasses."

And for a moment, Sam forgot how to breathe. Those glasses cost over $3,000. No way could his dad ever afford a pair of $3,000 glasses. Sam remembered how long John had needed his own glasses before he ever gave in and bought them. And even then, they came from a thrift store. John had spent a good half-hour trying on every pair in the old cigar box before finding a pair that worked for him.

Sam couldn't let his family spend money like that just on him, not for something that wasn't absolutely necessary. Sure, they'd be nice to have, but they wouldn't save his life or anything. He shook his head, gearing up to argue.

But John just held up a hand. "Don't even try it, Sam. Glasses like that? They'll make you a better hunter. What happened the other night might not have happened if you'd had glasses like that." He winked at his son. "I consider something like that an investment in your future, in all our futures. It could help save your life someday, or Dean's life, or mine."

Sam felt a first painful pang of hope rise up in his chest.

"Now, we can't get the ones you saw tonight, obviously, but there has to another pair somewhere that costs a little less."

Sam piped up, "I was thinking maybe I could make a pair."

John paused, exchanged a glance with Dean. "Make a pair? You think you could do that?"

Dean jumped in excitedly. "Hell yeah, Sammy! If anyone could do it, it's your geeky ass, right?"

Sam grinned then, the sorrow of the last few hours fading. He stood excitedly. "Well, I mean, I'd need to do some research. But Joanie, she said the glasses corrected for missing cone cells in the eyes. I mean, if some big company can make them, why can't I?"

"Joanie?" That the kid that came to get me?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded.

"Nice kid. I liked her. Too bad she has to work for a big, fat dickwad of a boss."

Sam agreed, skipping over his encounter with Lou completely. "Maybe after we're done with this hunt, Dad? Maybe I could take the time to start researching the glasses then." Sam moved to sit in front of his laptop. "The sooner we can figure this out, the sooner I can get started." He raised the lid, his forehead creasing in concentration.

And from across the room, John and Dean locked glances, both smiling. The youngest Winchester was resilient, they had to give him that.

"That sounds like a good plan, Sam." John offered. "Real good."

Dean flounced the few feet to the table and folded himself into the chair across from his brother. He grabbed Sam's notebook and pen and poised himself to take notes. "I'll help you, Sammy. Whatcha got?"