The day was far from over. Rob showed up with a soft knock at the door twenty minutes after Helen retreated. Sam tripped his way out of his desk and to the door, pulling it open with a sheepish grin.

"Hi, Sam right?"

The voice was deep and mellow like butterscotch candy. Sam found himself smiling despite himself. "Yeah. Sam Singer." He reached forward expecting a handshake. His hand was clasped in a massive, meaty grip that made even him feel small.

"I'm Rob. God, you're tall. It's not often I'm eye to eye with anyone."

Sam grinned. "Believe me, I know the feeling. The nicknames alone get tedious."

Sam stepped aside and pulled the door open a little more. Rob took the invitation and came into the room. He gave a short chuckle and admitted, "I didn't realize you were that tall. I hope I brought the right size."

"Right size," Sam asked as he pushed the door shut behind them. He scoured his memory for any mention of something that might be fitted to him. As far as he knew the center didn't have a uniform or anything.

"We'll get you measured properly, but for now this should do."

"I don't understand."

"Here," Rob said. Sam reached out towards him. His hand smacked into Rob's as he fumbled for whatever was being held out for him. He tried to jerk away, but he was caught in Rob's grip again, this time by the wrist.

"Sorry," Sam said as the heat began to creep up his neck again. He had always had a very firm rule to keep his hands to himself and here he was groping all over someone. It was the one thing they were adamant about in their small family – no touchy-feely moments. That was one of the things that had been so marvelous about dating Jess all those years ago. She hadn't shied away from hugs or hand holding. She was just as physically affectionate as Sam's family never had been. It had been nice, but Sam was strict about not invading anyone else's personal space.

"Don't apologize." Rob guided his hand to the object he was holding. As Sam sucked in a breath to protest, he pressed on. "No, seriously. Don't. It's not your fault. You're working with one less sense than everyone else. You can't help what you can't see. Now take the thing already. It won't bite."

"Er," Sam said, closing his hand around something cool and metallic. It was short, no longer than his forearm and seemed to be made up of four rods, each about the size of his thumb in diameter and held together with some kind of corded strap. "What is it?"

"That, Sam, is your independence."

"What?" Sam was thoroughly confused. A set of metal tubes was his independence?

"It's a white cane," Rob clarified.

Sam felt a pit open in his gut. A cane. A large, white, neon sign that told the world he was crippled. That was the cherry on top of this shitty day. It was worse than the tour through a building he couldn't see, worse than a conversation about how to organize his shirts, worse than the humiliation of eating in a public space. Up until this point he'd been, perhaps not inconspicuous, but definitely not singled out. Carrying a cane would announce clearly that he was less than everyone else around him.

"Hey there," Rob said when he'd been quiet for too long. "Talk to me. I don't really go for the strong silent type."

"I'm fine," Sam said, a little hoarsely.

"Sure. Why don't you sit down?"

Sam's feet took him across the room to his bed where he dropped with a flop of covers. Across from him he heard Rob pull up the desk chair. "What's going through your head?"

Sam gave himself a firm shake. This was not about what he wanted. This was about what he needed. He needed to be functioning, and Rob claimed this would help him do that. "Nothing. I'm good. Let's do this."

"We are doing this. Look, no one expects you to just be fine. Trying to push too hard when you aren't comfortable, especially when we're about to do something that requires some concentration, can be dangerous. So talk to me."

Sam let himself sag forward, catching his elbows on his knees. If he could have seen, he would have been staring at his feet. "I just…it makes it more real, you know? Geeze that sounds stupid. It's not like I thought it wasn't real before, just…"

"It's a reminder for everyone else."

"Yeah."

"Sam, let me ask you this; if you saw someone with a cane crossing the road before all this happened, what would you have done?"

Sam frowned at the question. "What do you mean?"

"What would you have done? If you were driving along and saw someone using a cane what would you have thought?"

"Don't hit the blind person while they're in the crosswalk?" Sam really wasn't sure what he was looking for here. He hadn't really ever considered the issue before. Usually he was too busy actually driving to spare more than a passing thought about who was crossing the road, blind or not.

"Exactly," Rob said. "You'd have seen someone with a cane, acknowledged that they were probably blind, then gone on about your business. Most people would. The cane sends a message, sure, but for most people it just means you can't see. There are assholes in the world, but most people just don't care."

Sam took a moment to really think about the situation. He had seen blind people before. The amount of traveling they did and the kind of circles they ran in meant he saw all sorts of hunting injuries and met a wide range of people. He might have held a door or offered a hand if it looked needed, but Rob was right. Unless it was someone he knew he wouldn't have thought twice about it. "Yeah. I guess."

"I can't tell you what it will take for you to be comfortable with all this. Just know if people stare, it's because of their own worries and fears. It has absolutely nothing to do with you nine times out of ten. Or maybe six out of ten. Mandy seemed to think you were attractive."

Sam snorted. "Okay."

Rob stood and put the chair back in its place by the desk. He tapped his foot and Sam could hear the grin in his voice when he said, "Then let's take this baby for a spin."

They spent the remainder of the short session navigating with the cane and learning how to work with it in the confines of the building. Sam even got out for a short walk through the halls following Rob's cheerful commentary.

They had been out walking for nearly half an hour when Rob stopped them halfway down a hallway. He set a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam couldn't help the small flinch at the unexpected contact, but Rob didn't seem particularly bothered by it.

"Keep this up and you'll be fine," he said. "You've got me after lunch tomorrow. This all gets more interesting from here. The door to Dr. Greyson's office is just here on the left. He's your assigned counsellor. Do you remember how to get back from here?"

Sam gave it some serious thought. "Back down the hallway to the intersection. Take a right. Elevator's on the right hand side of the hall. Up to floor six. Then it's two lefts and at the end of the hall."

"Exactly right. If you need help getting back, Dr. Greyson can call one of our ambassadors to guide you, but I think you'll do just fine. So now, just a friendly word of advice. Talk to the doc. He can help if you let him, but you've got to be willing to share what's going on in your head."

"Sure. I'll try."

"That's all I'm suggesting. See you tomorrow!"

With that Rob was off leaving Sam standing in the middle of the hall. He took a step to his left with his hand outstretched to find the wall. The wallpaper was finely textured under his hand, and he wondered what color they had deemed appropriate for the halls of a building that catered to the blind. He hadn't thought to ask as they were touring this morning. Sam felt along the way until he found the doorframe. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

There was a muffled scrambling from inside the office. Sam frowned, leaning in to hear a little better. Before he could really get into a position to eavesdrop, a man's voice called, "Come in!"

Sam squared his shoulders and found the doorknob. He twisted it before he could have any misgivings. He knew himself well enough to recognize that he had to get it over quickly. If he didn't charge in he would lose his nerve.

When he entered the room he was hit with the cool smell of mint and leather. It was an odd combination but somehow relaxing. Sam paused just inside the door. It was much darker in the room. It was a little disorienting after the bright lights of the hallway.

There was a shuffle of papers as Sam stood in the doorway and waited for any kind of sign about what he should do next. Across the room, he could hear papers rustling and someone muttering under their breath. The other person cleared his throat and greeted him distractedly.

"Hello, Sam. I see Rob didn't run you into too many poles. My name is Kevin Greyson. Dr. Singleton matched us to work together. Come on in and take a seat. There's an armchair directly ahead of you, or a sofa off to your left against the wall if that would be more comfortable."

Sam stepped forward into the space. He tried not to be self-conscious about the cane sweeping out ahead of him. Rob assured him it would come to feel natural. He had to admit it was reassuring to have some feedback about the world around him despite his worries about damaging something in this man's office. His anxiety was tempered by a bit of relief when he found the chair.

As he came around it, the man across from him sucked in a breath. "Holy shit. You're Sam Winchester."

Sam froze, blood running cold. It had been so long since he really needed to worry about the FBI's most wanted list, or whatever government agency had decided it wanted their heads that month, that he hadn't even been thinking that someone might recognize him.

"What?"

Kevin immediately read the tension in his stance. "No, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I'm Kevin Greyson," he said again. "You helped my sister's boyfriend a few years back. Vampires. I don't think we were ever introduced. I saw you talking to the cops, but I never got to say thank you."

For the second time in the short span of their conversation, Sam's mind went blank. He had helped someone this man knew? He needed longer than he probably should have to summon up any kind of connection there, but he did vaguely remember a hunt he and Dean had taken maybe six years ago in Kentucky. A vampire nest had been preying on a mountain town. With a frown, he offered, "London, KY? Keith Horner? They were luring folks out from that bar on the edge of town, right?"

"Yeah. That's us."

Sam nodded at the confirmation. He reached back to find the chair so that he could sit. "How is he," Sam asked. He let himself sink down into the enormous chair. He had probably been blocked from view by the overbearing thing when he first entered. "You haven't had any more trouble out there have you?"

"No, everything's been fine. Keith just opened his own business. He and Vicks are married now."

Sam smiled. "That's great!" He always hated that he never got to hear the end of the story. He knew they did important work, but knowing that sometimes the people they saved got a happily ever after made the job worth doing.

"Yeah, thanks. Anyway, that's not why your here. I guess I should say that since I technically know you, you can choose to have another counselor if you want."

Sam shrugged. "I mean, it's really more that you know of me, right? And besides, it'll be helpful if you already know what I do. I was terrified I was going to have to do mental gymnastics for this thing."

Dr. Greyson laughed. "I can imagine your line of work is a little difficult to explain."

"You have no idea."

"No, I really don't," he admitted. In the space of the next breath, he shifted into something more like the shrink Sam had expected. "I'm sure you're tired and a little overwhelmed, so I'll try to keep this brief. My role in your program is a little different from Rob's or Helen's. They are here to teach you the skills you need to adapt. My job is to help you process everything, whatever shape that takes.

"Before we go any farther, I have to get a few things out of the way. I may work for Brookhaven, but you have the same privacy with me here as you would with any other medical professional. I can't share anything with anyone without your full knowledge and consent except in a couple of really specific situations –"

"I know. You have to report if I'm a danger to myself or others, if there's ongoing abuse, or if I'm planning on committing a crime.

"Yep. Exactly," he said with a little laugh. "Sounds like you've gotten that speech before."

Sam shrugged. "I thought I wanted to be a lawyer at one point."

"And instead you ended up as Van Helsing? That's a story I've got to hear one day. Anyway, there's two more things you should know. First, if at any time you don't feel comfortable or something's not working, you should tell me. I might be able to adjust my approach or you can always be matched with another staff member. Second, I'm going to ask you not to lie here. You can say you don't want to answer something, but lying makes it nearly impossible for me to uphold my end of this relationship."

"Are you sure, doc?" Sam asked. He leaned forward. He really wished he could make direct eye contact, but he had to settle for his most serious hunter voice. He couldn't just dump his world onto someone even if they thought they were ready. "You've already seen vampires, but that's just the tip of the iceberg. Werewolves, ghosts, demons – they're all real and all nasty. The things I've seen and done, you don't walk away from that knowledge."

If the revelation that there were other types of monsters in the world came as a surprise, it was well hidden. Dr. Greyson didn't even hesitate. "Call me Kevin. I'm not one to stand on ceremony. And yes, I'm sure. Like you said I already know. The only way I can help is if you are completely honest with me so don't try to protect me. My little corner of the world is safe enough. This is for you."

Sam had his misgivings. His world was dark and gritty. He saw the things that moved in the shadows and he faced down monsters that most people had the luxury of not believing in.

"Sam," the doctor prompted.

"Okay."

"So, the file that Malcom sent me said this was recent. Was it hunting related?"

"Yeah," Sam said. It was weird admitting it. It was like stripping naked in front of strangers. "There was a wendigo living up in the woods. It had taken a girl and I was the only person close enough to have a shot of getting her out alive. The thing slammed me up more into the cave roof than the wall, which is what I told the hospital, but in the end I killed it."

"What's a wendigo?"

Sam frowned and straightened in his chair. It was one thing to explain this type of thing to a civilian that got mixed up in the supernatural or the occasional newbie just getting his feet wet, but to talk intentionally about monsters with someone who wasn't also a hunter was just weird. He finally settled on saying, "They are usually old pioneers – miners who went west to make their fortune. They fell on hard times, resorted to cannibalism, and never went back. They snatch people from the woods and take them back to their dens, usually an old mine or a deep cave system, to feed on later like people might stock a larder. It's weird to see one here. It's usually a south western sort of thing."

"Is it really that odd? Appalachia is all mining territory, even if we are after coal rather than gold. People fall on hard times anywhere you go."

Sam shrugged. "No idea. I honestly have no clue why some of them become wendigos, while others died off or even what sort of curse or force twists them into those creatures beyond their own hunger for human flesh."

"Either way," Kevin said, "I'm glad to know you're still out there saving the world."

"At least I was."

He jerked when a soft chiming sounded from the desk ahead of him. Sam didn't realize how engrossed he'd been in the conversation. He wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not that Kevin seemed to be easy to talk to and genuinely more interested in a conversation than probing his inner psyche.

"Ah, sorry. That's the timer I set for most of my sessions. It's meant to be a signal that our time is coming to a close. I find that since the nature of the job means most of the people coming in can't read a wall clock, it puts people at ease a little. I should have asked if you wanted it."

"No, it's fine. Just maybe warn me next time."

"Fair enough. That means we have about five minutes left. As we work together, I'd like your feedback on what works best during this time. This is your time to get settled before you have to go back out, so if you just want to sit and think you can, or if you want to be distracted, I can do that."

Sam nodded. "I…that's actually really helpful. So what now? I didn't really get into anything upsetting."

"How about we call it a day a few minutes early? The first session is always short anyway and I imagine you might want a bit of a breather before dinner. You and I will have a full session tomorrow afternoon. We'll attack some of the harder questions then."

Sam nodded and rose from his seat. He was ready for a break. "See you tomorrow, then."

Sam made it back to his room and then down to the little dining hall on his own, thanks to Rob's afternoon lesson. He had no idea how to get anywhere else, but at least he could fend for himself for the rest of the evening. He did not have the mental fortitude to deal with the wash of words that made up his appointed guide. His brain was mush and he was more exhausted than he could remember being since the trials. He had a suspicion he was headed for his very own mental breakdown and he just flat out didn't have time for it.

He sank into a seat at an empty table with his dinner and tried to block out the low hum of chatter around him. At least the burger and fries they were serving were finger food. No one would think twice about it if he made a bit of a mess. He had picked up his burger and was about to take a bite when he felt someone walk up behind him. His frayed nerves sent his hand to his waistband, searching for a knife that he wasn't even carrying.

He heard his name. It was said softly, but he would recognize the voice anywhere. He forced himself to relax and set down the burger before he turned with a questioning smile.

"Cas?"

"Hey, Sam."

Sam gestured for Cas to take a seat across from him. "What are you doing here," he asked. He realized as soon as he said it that he probably sounded ungrateful and rushed to add, "Not that I'm not glad you're here."

"I thought I'd come see how you were settling in. Was that not okay?" Cas sounded sincerely concerned.

He bit back a sigh. He really was glad Cas had come back. It was the last thing he had expected, but he didn't really want to be alone tonight. "No, it's great. I just figured you would head out after this afternoon," he explained.

"I don't really have anywhere I have to be," Cas said as he settled down in the seat across from Sam. "I wanted to be here."

Sam felt his throat tighten. He cleared it. "You didn't have to."

"I know. I want to."

Sam smiled a little more openly. "Thanks, Cas."

Cas shifted across from him and Sam got the impression he was a little embarrassed. "You don't have to thank me," he said for the hundredth time over the last few days.

They fell into a stilted silence. Sam didn't know what to say. Finally Cas ventured to ask, "So how was your afternoon?"

Sam swallowed his bite before latching onto the safer area of conversation. "Informative. I met all four of the people I'll be working with. Rob, the mobility specialist, got me started with a cane," he said waving at the bundle that he'd laid on the table next to his plate.

"I see. Does it seem like the kind of program that will help?"

"Yeah. I think it'll be good for me."

"And the counselor?"

Sam made a surprised noise. "Actually knows what we do. His sister was in a bit of trouble a while back and we helped out. I never actually met him properly. It's a relief to know that he knows about the job."

"That's good."

"Yeah," Sam said. He couldn't help himself as he shifted in his seat. He toyed with one of his fries on his plate before he asked, "Any news? I've been so consumed with me the last few days I haven't thought to ask about you."

"You've been a bit preoccupied. I wasn't bothered by it."

"Still, have you heard anything…about your grace or Dean?"

"No, on both fronts."

Sam nodded. He really hadn't expected anything else. For some reason things between them had lost the ease that had slowly built over the years. True, they hadn't exactly been fast friends when Cas first showed up, but they had grown to respect each other and Sam had a particular fondness for the angel. Sam hated this conversation that lurched forward in fits and starts. "Cas? Are you okay? You're awfully quiet."

"I am...not well, but I'm fine."

"Is that Winchester fine?"

"That doesn't even make sense," Cas said blandly.

Sam shrugged, letting it go. He needed to change the subject before any more of their visit was eaten up by the somber mood. "So," he said, forcing himself to pop the fry he had been twirling between his fingers into his mouth and swallowing down his discomfort. "I'm supposed to wear that unfortunate green plaid shirt tomorrow. Helen told me it was my homework to remember which shirt got put where. I can't believe I still have that thing after Dean barfed all over it."

Across from him, Cas seemed to relax at the abrupt topic shift. "I distinctly remember you saying you were going to burn it."

"Yeah. I do too. Maybe it's haunting me."

Cas chuckled. "I could help you perform an exorcism if you like."

"Nah," Sam laughed. He could just imagine explaining that one to the center. "Just maybe take a look and see if it's barf stained?"

"Would that be cheating? It sounds like you're asking me to show you which shirt is which."

"Spoil sport. I've got a dozen shirts and Helen did some sort of organizing by color thing and I still don't remember which one is which."

"Then you have a one in twelve chance."

Sam snorted. "I appreciate the sympathy."