Dean cringed as Sam rammed his knee on the bathroom door. He had forgotten to close it again and he cursed under his breath because he knew better. Sam yelped in pain and tried to regain his balance failing miserably as he connected with the chair. "At least I found it"
"Dude, why don't you use that stick thing the doctor gave you?" Dean ventured, checking his tone, so as not to sound like he was talking down to his little brother.
"Because," Sam stated as he worked on easing himself in the chair, " A) I don't want to and B) the guy said it would be temporary."
"Yeah, but temporary doesn't necessarily mean soon, and well, you keep hitting things."
"Don't you think I know that Dean? I'm not an idiot!" Sam shot back, his words filled with disdain. He was way past being afraid of the constant black veil that surrounded him. The only thing raging through him now was anger. Pure, raw, unchecked anger. Dean already thought of him as a little kid needing his protection 24-7 anyway. Now, he was proving Dean right. He was completely helpless and totally reliant on him. He couldn't do anything for himself anymore. Dean was laying out his clothes for God's sake. Yeah, the first couple of days he tried, but had only failed miserably at every attempt. So what was the point? Even when he was trying to eat, Dean was unwrapping the plastic silverware and positioning it in his right hand, all the while laying out his food and drink and revealing their location by grabbing his left hand and forcing it to make contact with each item before him. It didn't matter how many times Dean showed him, he still managed to spill something. He had already ruined 3 perfectly good hamburgers, as his brother had put it. Why can't he just leave me alone?
Dean sat quietly watching his little brother struggling to get comfortable in the hard wooden chair, his brow furrowed as though in deep thought. He would've hit Sam for that comment, if the situation had been anything but this. Dean sighed, he knew Sam would sit in that chair all day before he would admit he needed help to find whatever he was looking for. It amazed him that Sam was the one refusing to talk about the whole situation, and that he was the one desperately trying to communicate. After the first couple of days, Dean had simply given up trying to talk with Sam. He forced himself to focus entirely on helping him with everyday things--like getting dressed, eating, and getting Sam into the shower, but every time Sam put up a hell of a fight, angered that Dean would dare to treat him like a child. I'm sorry, Sammy, I can't help it. It's all my fault. God, this is all my fault. Dean turned his attention back to research. Not that it mattered anymore, he had lost all desire to work. It's not like the spirit would be leaving the parish anytime soon. So what if his dad got pissed? He wasn't the one putting up with Sam's blindness, not to mention his current ungrateful attitude.
The room had been silent for over an hour, with the exception of the crinkling of pages turning. Sam tensed. He hated that his brother was reading. He was the one who did the research, not Dean. That was his job. Not anymore. The thought did nothing but infuriate him more. He's probably just reading those stupid "How to Cope" pamphlets again. Sam could have sworn Dean had read those at least 50 times since they had left the hospital. He didn't care if he read them or not, but the fact that Dean kept referencing them every time Sam couldn't find something or stopped cold trying to get a grasp on his location really pissed him off. "It says here you should get a good layout of the room, Sammy, let me take you through the room again so next time you won't hit that again." Or "I think you're supposed to do it this way. Yeah, see, you get a better feel for it and you won't drop it." Sam's personal favorite was "This book says that classes are a good thing and lists a few, maybe we could crash one tomorrow nite." Sam never thought there'd be a day when his brother would suggest going to a class—of any kind.The silence was getting to Dean, he needed noise of some kind. He thought about grabbing the keys and sitting in his baby for a while just listening to some Metallica, but opted not to since that would require him to leave Sam alone and he couldn't do that. Instead, he decided to attempt a conversation. Within minutes, he wished he hadn't.
"So, Sammy, is your head still hurting, or what?" Dean waited for a reply, but none came. Sam just sat there motionless. Not even flinching at the sound of his name. Dean tried again. "Uh…so you hungry? I was thinking of maybe getting something different tonite. You know, whatever you want. I'm kind of getting sick of burgers. We could go out if you want." Since we haven't left this room in over 3 days.
"Really, well, in that case, how about a five course meal?" Sam posed haughtily, "Yeah, Dean, you can take me to a really nice restaurant and publicly humiliate me by reading the menu for me and cutting my steak up in little pieces. What do you say, bro. Yeah, sounds like a whole lot of fun to me too."
Dean willed himself to stay seated, every fiber in his body wanted to grab Sam, throw to the floor, and beat the crap out of him. But pity and regret soon overtook him.
"Look, Sam, I didn't mean to…." What am I trying to say again? "I'll just call in a pizza, Okay? Supreme, right, no mushrooms?"
"I don't want pizza." Dean laughed to himself. Sam kept saying he was adult, but here he was whining like a 5 year old.
"Yeah, well, too bad." Dean shot back, he didn't take lip from anyone, especially Sammy.
"Why do you have to be such a jerk?"
"I'm being a jerk?" Dean paused, biting his tongue Why is Sam pushing, he knows my temper. "All I'm trying to do is help you Sam, but you just can't let me do that, can you?"
"I don't need your help." The reply was sharp, it's blade ripping Dean's heart.
"Yea, you do Sammy." Tears were beginning to form in his eyes, and he quickly brushed them away. He didn't know why, it's not like Sam could see him cry anyway.
Sam could hear the sadness in his brother's voice, but he wasn't going to let that stop him. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to hurt Dean, like he had been hurt. He knew how to do it too.
"Oh, really? Well, I wouldn't even be in this mess if you hadn't dropped me!"
Dean couldn't move, his mind reeling. He knew that Sam would use that eventually, but he hadn't prepared himself for the delivery. His brother voice was full of resentment and hatred. I really am ruining his life.
"Aren't you gonna say something?" Sam taunted "Don't tell me for once in his life the great Dean Winchester is at a loss for words."
Sam waited anxiously for his brother's reply. He craved a fight. He needed a fight, and he knew Dean would give it to him. C'mon Dean just do it. Scream at me, hit me, just do something!
Dean's silence was beginning to frighten Sam. His spine tingled with anticipation, he was beginning to wish he could see his brother's face. C'mon Dean say something.
But Dean didn't say anything, the only other sound that Sam heard from Dean that night was the jingling of car keys and the slam of the hotel door.