Damn, Sam's left eye was killing him.

He sat at the kitchen table, downstairs before everyone else, and tried not to feel sorry for himself. It was bad enough when the headaches kicked in at the end of the day, but waking up with them totally sucked. He sipped on coffee and massaged his left temple as he waited for the pain medication to kick in.

He closed his eyes, but the pain just intensified.

Sam considered himself tough, but he was really toying with the idea of asking Dad to take him to the ER, and Winchester men just didn't do the ER.

But damn … the pain.

Sam groaned and opened his eyes, determined to just deal with it.

But it was only darkness that greeted him.

###

Dean tugged his jeans up gingerly, wincing as he straightened. He wondered if he'd ever again look forward to mornings.

He sighed.

And that's when the screaming started. Dean barely recognized his brother's voice, it was that terrified - woven clean through with pain and fear and panic.

One word.

"Dean! Oh God! Dean! Deeeeeaaaaaaannnnnnn!"

Dean's shirt dropped numbly from his fingers as he bolted for the stairs.

"Sammy!" He called back in a terrified echoed, rounding the newel post and sliding into the kitchen.

Sam was on his knees on the kitchen floor, hysterical, kneeling in broken ceramic and coffee. His eyes were wide open, his head thrown back like he couldn't breathe. His arms reached out stiffly toward nothing. "Dean!" His cries turned to sobs as Dean landed in front of him, gathering him up in a desperate embrace.

"Sammy! What the hell, man? I thought something was trying to kill you?"

"I can't seeeeeeeeeee!" Sam wailed. "Nothing! It's just black. It's black everywhere I look! Dean, I'm blind! I can't … can't be blind!"

"What!" Dean cried, echoing his brother's fear. He pulled Sam against him tight, locking both arms around his frail frame and trying to steady them both. "Sammy! It's … it's gonna be okay, man! Just … calm down, okay? You gotta calm down!"

John was there then, a gun in his hand, sleep still in his eyes. "What the hell's going on down here?"

"Blinnnnnnnnd!" Sam wailed, rocking helplessly in his brother's grasp. "I'm blinnnnnnnnnnnd!" His words trailed off into a pain-filled sob.

"Sammy." Dean whispered, rocking him gently. "Shhhh. It's gonna be okay. I promise."

But Sam continued to cry - long, loud sobs that echoed in the stark kitchen - his arms out stiff, not returning Dean's hug, but rather reaching … reaching for the light at the end of the darkness.

"Please don't let me be blind, Dean! Please! I can't! I can't stand it! It's so dark!"

"Shhh. It's okay, Sammy."

"I'm falling! Dean! I'm … I can't … help me!"

"I'm right here, little brother. I got you. I'm not gonna let you fall."

Sam began to choke. "I can't … can't breathe!" His face went from pale white to dark red in the space of an instant. "I … I … can't … breathe …" Sam's body went lax in his brother's arms. "Dean … I ... "

Dean shook his limp form in horror. "Sam? Sammy!"

Sam let out some kind of strangled hacking sound that caused Dean's heart to shatter. The older boy lowered him carefully to the floor, slapping his face gently. "Sam. Sammy, come on, man. Breathe!"

John placed his gun on the table and knelt beside his boys, wrestling Sam from his brother's grasp. "Sam!" He slapped the boy hard in the face, twice. "Breathe, dammit!"

Sam sucked in a sudden deep breath then, his upper body arching in his father's arms.

It was Dean who called the ambulance.