This took a little longer to update than usual, because I had trouble finding the right voice for the meeting with Roy. But I think I found it!

Chapter 7

Where the hell were they? John paced his motel room, irritated through and through. Hadn't Joshua called Sam a couple of days ago? Where were they that it took so long to get to Nebraska?

-

Mikey checked his watch again. It was 7:30, and he had strict orders from Sam to wake them no later than eight. He sipped his coffee, watching his brothers sleep. Sam was in his usual position as of late, wrapped around Dean. It was weird, watching them sleep like this. Almost like invading something private.

Mikey checked his watch again. 7:32. He sighed. Today was the day they found out what specialist Sam had dragged them halfway across the country to see. He hoped it would be worth it. Even a few more months would be great, unless those months were filled with speeches like last night.

A shudder ran through his body at the thought of having to look after Sam when the visions struck. That was Dean's job. Besides, those visions really freaked him out and Sam knew it. How would he be able to suddenly pretend it didn't bother him? Dean had been doing it all along, he had come in half way. It was like missing the first part of a movie and constantly trying to figure out what you'd missed.

-

Roy smiled as he felt his wife's hands fuss with his shirt. "Sue Anne, it doesn't have to be perfect. People expect a blind man to miss a button every once in a while," he chuckled.

"Now, Roy. I want you to look nice," her smooth voice insisted. The only thing he really missed about having his sight was looking at his wife. As she fussed over him, he imagined her soft smile and that way she had of looking at him like he was the only man on Earth.

"Am I presentable yet?" he asked when her hands fell away. He did enjoy how she insisted on dressing him every morning. It was something private that only the two of them could share. Even if someone were watching, it was still an intimate moment that no one could invade.

"Yes. I think so," she leaned against his chest, hugging him. He wrapped his arms around her.

"Well, then, should we go check out today's crowd?" he asked.

Sue Anne sighed. "I think it should be Layla today. She's been coming everyday for six weeks."

"Now, now, Sue Anne," he patted her arm as she led him through their house to the control room, "we never know if someone at death's door may be arriving."

He waited until he could hear the shuffle of feet and breathing of the two men watching the cameras installed in the tent. "Gentlemen, anything promising?" he asked as Sue Anne sighed.

"Maybe, Boss," Larry, the larger of his assistants replied. Larry had a small voice in direct contrast with his size. Larry was one of the first people Roy had healed, back when this all started. In gratitude, Larry had insisted on staying on and helping with Roy's mission. "Got a kid here, looks like death warmed over. Second row. Another two kids with him, big guys. He looks upset, too, Reverend. Might have a nonbeliever this morning."

Roy smiled. "Nonbelievers make the best converts." He reached out until he felt Larry's shoulder. He patted it. "Remember, Larry?"

He felt Larry chuckle in his grip. "Yes, sir. I sure do."

"Sorry, Sue Anne. Layla still has some time. I'll heal her before it's too late, I promise." Part of the blind package had been the ability to see when someone's time had come. In the beginning he had panicked, not wanting or even liking this new extra sense. Then he discovered he could see into someone's heart as well, know that person better than they knew themselves. He could tell, from a word or a cough, if someone had good or evil in their heart, had suffered or lived an easy life, in short – if you deserved to live. That was when Roy understood that he had been blessed, given a gift by God beyond his mere life. He was to spread The Word, and God had given him two gifts to do it with – the power to see into a heart, and the power of Life.

Sue Anne sighed as she led him out of the house. Their two assistants flanked him, one on each side. Someone carried an umbrella, Roy could hear the soft drizzle of rain, smell the wet earth that squished beneath his feet. Everyday since God healed him from his cancer had been a gift, and Roy had not wasted them. Today would be no different.

They entered the tent from the back. Sue Anne led Roy to his place in the front, where he began his usual speech. Today, however, he was interrupted. And if he was not mistaken, it came from somewhere in the vicinity of the second row.

"Yeah, and to their wallets." It was said with a sneer, Roy was certain. But he heard something else in that voice, something that pulled at him.

"Careful what you say around blind men, son. We have sharp ears," he chuckled, hoping the boy would say something else. This one was harder to read than usual.

"Sorry," the word was barely a mumble.

He would have to coerce the boy into saying more, to be sure. "You got a name, son?"

He heard a throat cleared several times. "Dean."

The name hit him like a lightning bolt. In one syllable Roy heard pain, suffering, and a mission of epic proportions. He had no idea what this boy's mission was or could be, but he knew he had to help him. "Dean, why don't you come on up here?"

There was clapping, but Roy did not hear the sound of footsteps coming toward him. He thought he heard someone say something. "What was that?" he asked.

"I said, maybe you should pick someone else," Dean's voice finally carried over the crowd gathered today.

Roy smiled. "Son, I didn't pick you. God did." And Thank God He did, Roy thought. A cynic of this proportion would be a devout follower by sunset, converting everyone he saw. Now he heard the shuffling footsteps approaching, slow. The boy was worse than he thought. As Dean approached, Roy sensed the boy's time was nearly up, despite the strong soul he sensed there. It was good they had not waited any longer. Without healing Dean would be dead before dawn, Roy was certain.

Roy took a deep breath as Dean stood next to him. "Everyone, pray with me," Roy held up his hands. He felt the familiar presence that sent cold chills down his spine and meant the healing would soon commence. Roy did not understand why one of God's messengers would bring such cold with it, but he did not question the divine.

Roy moved his hand up until it rested on Dean's cheek. He felt Life flow into Dean. The boy shuddered under his hand. Roy maintained contact as long as he could. Someone this sick needed his healing touch for as long as Dean could tolerate it. He felt the boy slid away from him and heard it when the limp body hit the floor.

"Dean!" Two male voices shouted at once. Roy imagined he could see the two men with this young man. He wondered if they were relatives or friends. Probably relatives. Friends usually did not make such a trek. It was a mark of the sad state of their society, but it was true. Besides, friends were more likely to accept death as fate than family. Roy knew that from personal experience. Sue Anne had never given up on him.

"Dean!" The second time Roy heard the anguish in this boy's Life. It was as great as, if not greater than, Dean's. But Death did not linger in those tones, just as it no longer hung about Dean. He stepped back into the waiting hands of Sue Anne to give this family their time. He listened as they struggled to right Dean, pull him to his feet, and took the boy out of the tent. Roy thought he heard hospital or doctor mentioned as well. He smiled to himself. He knew it was a miracle but some people, even after watching it with their own eyes, still needed the proof.

-

Sam waited, nervously drumming on the exam table Dean was sitting on. Dean shot him a look, but his fingers refused to stop. His brother's color was good, healthy. That deathly gray pallor was gone, but that could be a trick. It could be his mind playing tricks on him, because he wanted this so much. Wanted? He needed it. Like he needed air.

Mikey hovered in the background, apparently unable to decide if he should say anything. When he sank back against the far wall, Sam knew Mikey was taking a page from Dean's book, choosing to say nothing and try to be invisible. Sam would worry about Mikey later, if he needed to. Right now Dean was his focus.

The doctor returned to the exam room with the sharp click of heels on linoleum. Sam watched her approach expectantly.

"Well, I've run every test I can think of, Mister Peavy, and I can not find anything wrong with your heart." Sam let out the breath he was holding. "There's not even any evidence there ever was anything wrong with your heart, which, at your age, is not surprising. Still, I guess you can't be too careful."

Sam watched Dean's head cock to one side and that interested look come over his face. He felt like doing cartwheels. His brother was back!

"How do you mean? Can't be too careful?" Dean's voice was measured, careful, but there was strength in it. Finally.

"Well, there was a guy brought in just this morning. He was young, like you, and just dropped dead of a massive heart attack. No history of heart problems or anything in the family. So it's probably best that your brothers made you get checked out." Sam had no doubt she threw in that last line because Dean had been so annoyed throughout all the tests, griping and complaining. Sam had enjoyed every second, because it not only meant Dean was feeling better, but he was acting like he should and not hiding and cowering from the world. So when Dean shot him a hard look, Sam was not sure how to take it. What was that supposed to mean?

"Thank you, doctor," Sam replied, absorbing Dean's look.

"You boys have a good day," she said, motioning to the door.

Sam followed Dean closely out of the doctor's office, barely aware of Mikey following them. Once they were in the car, Dean paused before starting the engine.

"What do you think?" Mikey asked from the backseat.

"I think we should check out the dead guy," Dean said, staring at the steering wheel.

Sam's head swiveled between his two brothers. "Why? What for?" he demanded.

"Sam," Dean's voice was patient, like he was talking to a child, "you really think it's coincidence?"

"Yes!" Why did Sam feel like he was defending himself? Wasn't Dean living proof – LIVING – that the miracle happened? "What's wrong with you two? Can't we just take this one and move on?"

Dean did not look up from the steering wheel as he started the car. Sam tried to find signs of the fact Dean would listen to him, drop this nonsense. It was as if Dean did not feel he deserved to live, so it could not be real, which infuriated Sam. Sam and Mikey spent years trying to build Dean's self-confidence, only to have one therapist after another shatter it. He was sick of other people shattering his hard work, and now it looked like Dean was doing it to himself. His teeth ground as they headed for the motel.

There was a black pickup in the motel parking lot. Oh, shit. Dad showing up now was the absolute last thing Sam needed to deal with. He was relieved when Dean did not notice the truck. As they went into their room, Sam wondered how he would be able to screen Dad off Dean. At least for a while until he could convince his older brother that this second chance not only was a miracle, but one that was deserved.

Once the door was closed, Dean stood to face Sam. "It felt wrong, Sam," he said in that same patient voice. "It was cold. It felt more like death than life."

Sam glared back. "What's wrong with believing in a miracle, Dean?" he demanded.

There was a knock on the door. Sam wondered if their quota was full or if he could score a second miracle in one day. When the knock turned into a pound on the door, he knew he was out of luck. Damn it!

tbc…

Next: Daddy Dearest (as promised to jjackles)