Hi! I am hoping the rest of the week I won't be posting this late. I am exhausted lol!

Hope you'll all enjoy the second part of this little story.

No. 26: IF YOU THOUGHT THE HEAD TRAUMA WAS BAD…

prompt options: Migraine, Concussion, Blindness

continues immediately after yesterday's scene...

Dean had been mentally preparing himself for a lot of possible scenarios (all of them bad) when he'd first recognized something was wrong. Hallucinations, internal hemorrhaging, head injuries, smoke inhalation, or any number of other equally horrible things. What he hadn't been prepared for was the situation he found himself in now.

"You what?" he asked, shaking his head as if that would clear the ringing in his ears. As if it would change what Sam had said.

"I can't see," Sam repeated, confirming what Dean had really hoped he'd heard wrong.

"Ok, ok, let's just move a bit further from the exploding mine, ok?" Dean spoke very calmly because one of them had to be calm and Sam wasn't even in the running. "Let's just get over here and we'll figure this out, ok?"

Sam went easily enough although he didn't relinquish his grip on Dean's arm or his jacket. His breathing was still panicked as he stumbled along, his gaze frighteningly vacant.

"Alright, sit down," Dean instructed, guiding his brother down onto a tree stump. Still held fast by his brother's iron grip, Dean crouched down in front of him and said, "Ok. Let's figure this out. Did you hit your head?"

"I don't think so." Sam frowned, his breathing easing a bit as he focused on the question.

"That's good." Dean checked his pupils and they were reactive and the same size. Good signs. "Where were you when the explosion happened? You were almost to the door, right?"

Sam nodded. "I had just turned to look for you and then the explosion happened."

"Ok. Did you get thrown?"

Dean wrestled his arm free so he could stand up and run his hands through his brother's hair, searching for any evidence of an injury. Sam didn't relinquish his grip on Dean's jacket during the assessment.

"No...no, I didn't." Sam sounded halfway confident about that so it was a step in the right direction. "I was still on my feet after the blast."

"That's good."

Dean finished his assessment, satisfied there was no sign of any trauma or injury. Of course that didn't explain why Sam couldn't see. He frowned, looking his brother over. Somewhat grateful Sam couldn't see him right now because his face probably showed very clearly his own growing anxiety, he tried to focus on triaging the situation logically.

"When did you notice you couldn't see anything?"

Sam tilted his head, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment, then staring into the middle distance as he said, "I remember turning to look for you and I saw this flash of light and then the whole area was filled with smoke and then I couldn't see anything."

"Ok. So maybe it's from the smoke. Do your eyes hurt?"

"No, not really." Sam shook his head.

"Well, they look fine. No burns or redness at all."

"So why can't I see anything?" Sam asked, his voice a little shaky.

"I don't know, but we'll figure it out. Should get back to the car and you can rinse your eyes out. Can you see anything? It's not just blurry vision?"

"It's no vision, Dean. Nothing. Just darkness."

Dean's stomach flip flopped. He wasn't a doctor of any sort, let alone one who knew anything much about eyes. His triage abilities were already exhausted and he had no clue what was wrong.

"Let's go," he said, pulling Sam to his feet. "Get to the car then we'll get to the hospital. Get a trained professional to figure this out."

"What if there's nothing they can do?"

"There's always something that can be done." Dean refused to believe otherwise.

"Not always." Sam countered, his steps slow and tentative over the uneven, unseeable ground.

Tightening his grip and slowing his own steps to better guide his brother, Dean said, "Alright, Mr. Negativity."

"You'd be negative too if you couldn't see and didn't know why."

Why.

That was the question. Strange things happened all the time. Their lives were a testament to that. But without any obvious cause, it seemed extremely strange that Sam suddenly couldn't see anything. It seemed even stranger given that the issue of late was Sam seeing things that weren't there. Now he couldn't see things that were there.

A gnawing sensation began spreading through Dean's gut.

Why? No discernable injury. No obvious reason.

He glanced at his brother, the unease growing. Over the past week Dean had stopped counting the hallucinations. He'd grown so used to Sam flinching at nothing that it barely registered anymore, a realization that left him even sicker to his stomach.

What if this isn't actual blindness?

Sam definitely didn't seem to be able to see anything, but what if it was psychological, not physical?

What if I'm wrong?

What if I'm right?

"Sam?" he asked, guiding his brother down a sloping hill.

"Yeah?"

"Are you...is he around?"

"No." Sam frowned. "Everything...it's quiet."

The moments when it was quiet were few and far between. The gnawing sensation grew icy tendrils of doubt that uncoiled and began taking hold.

"Is there any chance…"

Dean paused. Addressing the devil in the room was always tricky. Sometimes Sam could tell, could decipher the illusions in the midst of reality. And sometimes he couldn't. If this was a hallucination, it was a pretty damn strong one which meant pulling Sam out of it would be difficult.

"Any chance what?" Sam prompted.

"Any chance this is...a hallucination?" Dean asked, the word tasting like sulphur on his tongue.

Sam stopped moving. He turned to face Dean, pulling back slightly as he asked, "You think this is a hallucination?"

"I don't know, Sam. That's why I'm asking. You tell me."

For a moment, nothing happened as Sam absorbed Dean's words. And then Sam shoved him and started backing away, both hands out in defense.

"Sam…"

"Stay away from me!" Sam kept moving backwards.

From bad to worse in a heartbeat.

Dean moved forward, not daring to grab his brother. At least not yet. He tried to keep his voice even as he said, "Sam, it's me. Ok?"

"No, no, no. This isn't right." Sam shook his head, turning around. Hands out, he managed to prevent himself from running straight into a tree. Guiding himself around the obstacle, Sam said, "This is wrong. Something's wrong. Stay away from me."

"Sam, stop. Come on, let's talk about this." Dean cursed under his breath as Sam stumbled through a small bush as he kept moving.

I should never have said anything. Should have handled this differently. Kept him calm.

He hurried after his brother, shouting at him when his calm words failed. But nothing broke through. If Sam hadn't already been hallucinating, he was now. Apparently, the devil had made an appearance and Sam was too engaged in arguing with him to listen to anything Dean was saying.

Dean cringed as a low branch smacked Sam in the face. It didn't break his stride, though, and Dean had to rush to keep up with him. The trees thinned out and then all Dean could see ahead was...nothing. A sharp drop off was ahead and Sam was heading straight for it.

There was no time for niceties at this point.

Rushing forward, Dean tackled his brother into the grass before he could fall over the edge.

They hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of Sam and jar Dean's ribs. He couldn't hold back a shout of pain. Despite that, he remained focused on his task. Sam was fighting him even while struggling for breath, but Dean grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. The cut had healed, but the trick still worked most of the time.

It took a moment, then it was like a switch had been flipped.

Sam collapsed back against the grass, his eyes wide as he sucked in a deep breath. No longer struggling, he looked at the hand Dean was still squeezing, then met Dean's gaze. Recognition dawned and the blank expression disappeared.

"Dean," he said, voice hoarse.

"You with me?" Dean asked, not releasing his brother's hand yet.

Sam nodded.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three."

Dean sucked in a relieved breath, releasing Sam's hand. "You can see me?"

"Yes."

"Ok. Ok, great." Dean patted Sam's chest.

Sam didn't look relieved, though. He looked absolutely horrified. He pushed himself upright, glancing around the area, before looking back at Dean.

One hand braced to his aching ribs, Dean asked, "What's wrong?"

"I thought...I couldn't see, Dean. I couldn't see anything."

"It wasn't real," Dean said, trying once again to hold off a panic attack.

Sam nodded. "It wasn't real but I couldn't see. You could have been trapped in that mine and I wouldn't have been able to find you-"

"Hey, that's not what happened -"

"This time." Sam grabbed a tree to brace himself as he struggled to his feet. "It didn't happen this time! What happens next time? When I think I can't see, or hear, or move? When he makes me think you're dead? When he makes it this real and I can't tell the difference and I get you killed?"

His panic was contagious and Dean's heart skipped a beat.

Sam fell back to his knees, leaning forward and throwing up what little he'd managed to eat for breakfast.

Cursing, Dean braced an arm across his brother's chest to hold him up.

"We'll figure it out," he said, rubbing Sam's back with his free hand. "We always do."

But they had been trying for months and things were getting worse, not better.

He was pretty sure Sam didn't believe a word he was saying.

He didn't really believe it, either.

Thanks for reading!

tomorrow's theme/prompts: No. 27: OKAY, WHO HAD NATURAL DISASTER ON THEIR 2020 BINGO CARD? Earthquake, Extreme Weather, Power Outages