I apologize pprofusely for the absence. College it taking up most of my time now its getting really close to exams so our teacher is really making us knuckle down in lessons and a lot out and with being poorly I've missed tons, even on lessons I went to. I really hate to do this but... this story is officially on HIATUS! Until I can find the time to do this story right. Unless anyone else wants to take over for a few chapters. Hope you can all understand. Sorry again.

Badass Beta/Awesome Editor- Samanatha V

I'll see you

"You ready Sammy?" Dean asked, more apprehensive than anyone in the room once Bobby told them that after Sam drank this disgusting puke yellow potion that he'd cooked up... it would get ugly as hell before it got better.

Sam was still all for it though as he seriously doubted it could get any worse. It was the others he was waiting on, then he'd gladly down the whole thing in one gulp. He nodded, taking the glass from his brother whose hand was still hovering close should he drop it from his shaking fingers.

He looked up at his father, his arms were crossed, his face taut, trying to appear stoic but coming off as anything but. Dean's fear was pretty much written all over him, right on the surface; whether he knew it or not, Sam wasn't sure. Bobby... Bobby just looked so damn sorry for what was about to happen. All of them knew what might happen... well, all but his big brother. He'd forced both older men to keep it as a secret because he just couldn't tell Dean, he just didn't need anything else put on him right now.

His eyes darted back to Dean, their gaze never shifting from each other as he brought the cup to his lips, tipped his head back and chugged.

It was disgusting, he gagged at every swallow and damn there was a lot of it, much more than he remembered. His brother was rubbing his neck, helping the liquid go down smoother as Sam retched. But finally... after several long minutes, Sam had finished the glass, handed it back to his brother who handed it to Bobby who left for the kitchen.

He frowned. Why was nothing happening? Why did he still hurt? Why could he still feel the veins throb?

"Did it work?" Dean asked his father as he knew Sam's answer already.

"I don't know." Unfolding his arms, he stepped back next to his boys and lifted Sam's t-shirt to see if anything was happening to the blue rash. "Sammy?" he asked, looking carefully at his son's face, hoping to read it as well as Dean could.

Sam just shook his head, tears stinging his eyes as he realized his only hope for relief had just failed. He thought that just in time to vomit again, this time all over his father, before what felt like lightning raced down his nerves making his back arch as his body spasmed into agonizing convulsions - he screamed. It burned, holy hell someone was setting his stomach on fire. Oh god... oh god... his eyes... his eyes... oh god, this wasn't meant to happened, Bobby said this wouldn't happen... his dad said he couldn't... he said... oh god... oh god...

Every nerve, every strand in his body was being torn apart and set on fire, one by one.

He couldn't scream anymore, he couldn't, he wasn't allowed, screaming was bad, it was bad, naughty. And naughty boys get punished, she said... she said. Oh god... he couldn't scream, but she never said anything about crying, he could cry, that wasn't breaking the rules, he could cry.

And he did. He cried as the blue supernova exploded in his head driving out all thought but pain, before it all went black, before the darkness enfolded what used to be his brother's face drenched in just that single tear that told Sam he was hurting too.

SPN

Dean watched as his brother cried, it was worse than the screams, screams at least held anger, they might hold a hell of a lot of pain but they had some power behind them. Tears and pitiful whimpers were just nothing but a plea for release, in any way possible.

He couldn't stop himself from stepping back from the scene, how could he let this happen to his brother? How could he just be allowed to sit here and watch this? Why couldn't it be him? Why wasn't it him that was left alone with those hunters? Why couldn't he have had the balls to tell his father no, no he was staying with Sammy, he was staying with his little brother because that was his job. Then Sam wouldn't be a mute, and he would have been a better big brother and Sam wouldn't have been taken by that bitch and it wouldn't have ever come to this. If he did his job like he was meant to none of this would be happening right now!

Instead he'd watched in horror as the poison, because he couldn't think of it as anything else, had torn its way through his brother's body. His father was still behind him from when he'd grabbed his arms and held him back as Sam had started to seize, looking like a puppet with a psychotic holding the strings. And then he'd starting screaming and Dean didn't think that things could get any worse. Bobby had helped keep him from his brother, not releasing him until the shudders stopped and the rusty howling faded, and he wasn't sure he'd be forgiving either of them any time soon.

He forced his body to move back to Sam's side and there he picked up his sobbing brother and rocked him.

"It's alright Sammy, it's alright, I gotcha little brother, I'm gonna make it better, make you good as new." Rocking, back and forth, back and forth, back... and forth. "You'll be fine." He concentrated on the soothing motion, tightening his grip as his brother began to stir slightly. Back, and forth, back and forth, back and- "Sam?" Was that?... No, no he was seeing things... no that... no. This was supposed to fix Sam... no, it wasn't, it just couldn't... "D-ad?" his voice shook.

"Dean," his father spoke calmly - too damn calmly. Couldn't he see?

"Dad his eyes... his freakin' eyes are blue! Why the fuck are his eyes blue? This was meant to fix him!"

Blue, and lost. That's all Sam's eyes were now. No white, no black pupils, no green iris, just a milky wash of blood flecked powdery sickening blue staring off into nothing at all.

Dean moved a hand in front of his brother's face, and got no reaction besides quiet sniffles.

"Dad... he can't... he can't see! Dad he can't see! Do something!" he pleaded, voice filled with fear and growing anger.

"I know," came the quiet answer Dean did not want to hear.

"You knew... you knew this would happen! You knew it wouldn't work!" Dean hissed, arms tightening once more on his now groggily awake little brother.

"No Dean, it worked, it worked alright!"It was John's turn to be angry. Hell yes he knew it would work, but fuck he didn't want it to work like this.

Dean looked at Sam, the sweat soaked t-shirt revealing the veins were gone, and so were the pain lines that had been etched in every inch of his body... but something else had gone too and Dean just wasn't okay with that like John and Bobby seemed to be.

"Sammy?" he choked.

Sam just smiled peacefully. It made Dean sick because... Sam was okay with it too, which could only mean that the moron knew what could happen and hadn't told him. What the hell! He wanted to scream. He was the protector, not Sam! Much as he valued the rather large bundle in his arms, as much if not more than when he'd carried him out of the fire, part of him was practically shaking with fury that Sam had kept him in the dark.

How in the hell was Dean supposed to read his brother like this? He couldn't express shit with those eyes! How was he supposed to know when Sam was upset? Or when Sam was happy or when he needed his attention when the kid couldn't muster any emotion other than confusion!

Blissfully unaware of his brother's emotional storm, Sam was indeed doing okay. He held onto the nearest thing his clumsy hands could find, Dean's shirt and shoulders, and heaved himself up, his brother following, never letting him go. Sam was exhausted, the shock of his lost sight hadn't hit him yet, but damn it felt good to move without agony or fear at last.

"Sam..."

He just smiled again to where he assumed his brother's face was. He could feel Dean's heavy breaths next to him, big brother wasn't okay, but for now... Sam was. Maybe in time, Dean would be too.

His hopes were shattered when the strong arms let go to gently settle him back onto the cushions and Dean left the house with what felt like a tornado under his ass.

SPN

"How do we get it back? Tell me! How do we fix this?"

Dean had rushed to his car, he'd intended to drive to the nearest cemetery and kill something in the most painful way possible. He hadn't gotten very far when his father stopped him by slamming him into the ground with a tackle that left him with gravel down his right cheek.

"Dean..."

"No! How do we fix him?" he demanded, pacing Bobby's yard now his dad had let him go.

"Bobby said there was no other way..."

"There's a way! There has to be!"

John just sighed, he knew not telling his eldest was a bad idea.

"Why didn't you tell me? Any of you?"

"Sammy said-"

"I don't give a damn what Sam said, you should have told me, you're meant to be his father! Me and Sammy would have been fine if you hadn't have come here today! I would have found something else for him! Something better than you did. You're a useless sack of shit you know that?" With those venomous words Dean left on foot this time, and John didn't stop him.

TBC...