Disclaimer: Still don't own Supernatural

Set: Season six (With no soulless Sam)

Main Characters: Sam, Dean, and Castiel

Ships: DESTIEL

Ages: Sam's 28, Dean's 32, Cas is a celestial being

Chapter Four: Fourth of July; Unplanned

"You made me laugh when I was giving in"

"get you the moon" by Kina

The Fourth of July.

Sam Winchester wasn't usually a fan of holidays. Blame it on the reality of the world being shoved down his throat from a very young age, or don't. Fact of the matter was they weren't his cup of tea.

But the Fourth of July. God, Sam loved that holiday.

It wasn't for the typical meaning behind it. The Winchesters weren't the most patriotic people, despite Dean's drunk jests as he shouted 'America!' in the bar. No, Sam did not like the Fourth because of the country's independence. He loved it because it was the only holiday hunting hadn't ruined.

Well, mostly. There had been that day when the holiday popped up and Sam practically drowned himself in a bottle of beer because Dean was in Hell, or the two times it had gone by in college when he stared at his phone for hours debating on whether or not to call his brother. But that wasn't the point. It was Sam's only holiday as a child when he could really be a normal kid.

So what if he had missed a couple of them in adulthood? Normal people did that too.

But in childhood, every Fourth of July had been saved by Dean. Lighting fireworks that they'd spent ages saving up for, sitting on the hood of the Impala, just being together. So yeah, Sam loved the Fourth. And knowing why, one should be able to sympathize why he was so pissed off when he found himself and Dean surrounded by demons mid-firework launch.

He'd just barely watched Dean back away and turned his gaze to the sky in an eager wait for the explosion when he felt the cold bladed steel of a knife on his neck. Instead of fear, Sam growled impatiently. His brother's gaze flickered from the sky to Sam at the gutteral sound, and he too dead-panned at the sight.

"Wonderful, just fucking wonderful," Dean hissed angrily, his hand went to his pocket -presumebly for the demon blade- but his palm patted an empty pouch.

Sam had been expecting Dean's reaction, an ill-tempered swear as he pulled out his gun instead, aiming it at the demon behind the younger Winchester. They were both regretting leaving the knife in the car, but it was too late to dwell on the mistake.

Something over his brother's shoulder caught Sam's eye. And no, it was not the magnificent firework that blossomed in the dark sky.

"Dean! Behind you!" the young man called out. Whoever was holding the knife to his neck didn't seem to appreciate his warning and proved their dislike by pushing the weapon closer toward Sam's neck. A sliver of crimson dripped down Sam's skin. But it was worth it as Dean spun around and fired a couple of shots into a demon's leg. The sound echoed through the empty forest, painfully desolate.

It vaguely sounded like a firework.

The gun did nothing to stop the demon, but it certainly made it (her?) falter. Sam would've winced in apology for the poor girl being possessed, but instead remained impossibly still as to not slice his neck open.

Dean turned his gaze back to Sam and the demon holding the knife. "Okay, you sons of bitches, what do you want?"

"Cool your jets, handsome," the one behind Sam tsked. "Nothing much. Just you and him dead."

Sam suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "You and about half a thousand others." He spat out, face scrunching up in the pain when the knife pressed deeper. He saw Dean's hand twitch in fury, and tried to send him a comforting look. They could handle a couple of low-life demons.

The young man's hand suddenly jutted away from his side and latched onto the demon's arm. Sam had been barely able to shift the blade off of his neck but it now struggled precariously close to Sam's neck. Dean took the struggle in stride and charged the demon. The dagger clattered to the dirt at the impact. The youngest Winchester took a sharp inhale of air, appreciating being able to again, and then started racing towards the Impala.

They needed the demon killing knife.

The first demon, seemingly recovered from the bullets in her skin, shouted into the forest. Two more demons poured into the clearing, stomping over the remains of fireworks with emotionally damaging carelessness. Those had been expensive.

Fireworks. Sam's gaze whipped around to see Dean had the fallen knife to the demon who'd been holding Sam back, digging it into the skin with a sneer. "How do you like it, bitch?" Okay, damn, he's distracted. Sam would have to do this alone.

He ditched the race to the Impala, it was too far, and grabbed an unlit firework in his hand. The cheap -okay, fine. Not so cheap, it had probably cost them like twenty bucks or so- object crinkled in his palm and he had it lit in half of a second. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Bad idea, bad idea. He aimed it in the direction of the three demons sprinting at him. You're so fucking stupid, Sam.

The firework let out an ear-splitting scream and the last thing Sam felt before stumbling backward at the recoil, was some serious guilt toward those vessels.

At least the firework itself was pretty awesome looking.

Two demons ditched their vessels in record speed but the third let out a tortured scream as he was struck. And then struck again as the firework continued to crackle and let out blazes of color.

One point: Firecracker Fountains. Zero points: Sam and the demons. Sam let out a shout of agony as the fountain of red-hot agony washed onto him. His skin felt like it was melting off from just holding the 'weapon', but it was the sparks that flew from all directions that caused the most damage.

Sam fell backward with another -had he really stopped?- scream of pain, and the firework tumbled out of his hands. It landed in the dirt but continued its show, sending sparks flying from all directions. He vaguely heard another demon escape its vessel and Dean's worried shout before his head smashed against the ground.

The young man felt a warm sensation spilling out of his head but he couldn't even move, or for that matter; open his eyes. They burned. His arms burned. His body burned. Everything burned. Even after the firework he'd lit let out a couple final blasts and died out.

It all still burned.

So. Goddamn. Much.

Dean's first instinct was to call an ambulance. But one look at the isolated forest and dead bodies made him rethink. The logic of his decision did make it any more comforting and as the young man carried his whimpering, way-too-big kid brother, he stomped out the last bit of flaming grass.

He blamed Sam; how could a full-grown man be so stupid as to use a firework as a weapon. He blamed the first demon; how dare he distract Dean? But most of all, the young man blamed himself; how could he have left Sam to fight three demons all by himself with not even a gun to defend himself?

"You're gonna be alright, Sammy, just breathe, 'kay? Breathe through the pain, come on," Dean whispered to the burned body he still didn't want to believe was his brother.

Sam's hands -how were those bubbling white hands Sam's?- trembled as he weakly tried bringing them to his face. His mouth fell open as if he was trying to speak but all that was a muffled hiss of pain.

"I know, kiddo, I know it hurts, just breathe…"

"'M'yz…" was the gasping response. Dean's face crumbled in confusion as he barely managed to open the passenger door and roll his brother inside. Sam moaned in agony and guilt flooded through the Winchester at the roughness he'd demonstrated.

He should be more careful.

Sliding into the driver's seat, Dean was screeching away from the forest, and their hundreds of dollars worth of fireworks, while silently praying to Castiel. If they had ever needed the angel, it was now, as Sam jumbled incoherently in pain from wounds that were stained across all six feet of him. He hadn't even opened his eyes since the explosion, and Dean didn't even want to imagine what he was going through.

It took about three seconds for the sound of feathers rustling whispered in Dean's ears. Three seconds late. Did Castiel not know how much pain his brother was in and how three seconds was three more seconds of agony?

"Dean?" Castiel asked, appearing confused at Dean's frazzled state before spotting Sam. "Sam," He gasped, eyes widening in concern and surprise. "Dean, what-"

"I'll explain later. Can you tell what's wrong with 'im?"

There was a long pause, achingly long. Dean's patience was running thin but as he opened his mouth to complain, the angel spoke, squinting in thought. "I believe he's been blinded."

He's been blinded.

Blinded.

Blind.

Blind?

The older Winchester couldn't breathe as he struggled to keep control of exceedingly fast Impala. "Bli-... what?" He said in disbelief, Castiel's words sounding like they had been spoken through about forty layers of blankets, at least to Dean's denial haunted brain. That wasn't true. That couldn't be true. Sam couldn't… couldn't be blind. He was Sam Winchester for God's sake.

"I believe Sam has been blinded," Castiel repeated in a way too calm voice. "I might… it is possible I can… would you like me to attempt to heal him?" His concern seeped into the conversation through his hesitancy.

Dean's mind finally seemed to clear up at the proposal. "No shit, Sherlock!" he snapped. Fear for his brother was pushing him to the edge of rage. The young man didn't even have it in him to feel guilt for his harsh tone.

Castiel reached out to Sam, resting a hand on the trembling adult in the chair. Warm light seemed to spill from his hands, filling the dreary darkness in the car with a blinding -was that a bad adjective given the circumstances?- illumination. Then he pulled back, his motions screaming diffidence. Angels weren't supposed to doubt! Anger coursed through Dean's veins, scalding his blood. "So?"

"I don't… I'm not…" there was a moment of tense silence. "I am not positive that it worked."

The driver whipped the car to the side of the road in one smooth motion, flinging himself around to face the angel the moment it came to a halt. "You don't know?"

The face that stared back at Dean gave him all the answers he needed. Castiel looked concerned, conflicted, scared. Scared of Dean? Or for Sam? "I am sure… sure he will recover but…" he trailed off, appearing uncomfortable under Dean's blazing green eyes. "...it may take some time. I have healed his head wound and attempted with the sight, but it is possible it will take a day or two to completely heal."

"With your help or without?"

Cas glanced fleetingly at Sam. "With. I'll also need to heal those burns but right now…" he offered up an apologetic look. "Fighting Raphael has been taking a lot out of me…"

The conscious Winchester balled his hands into fists, and the angel seemed certain he'd be punched, but then Dean flung the hand into the steering wheel with a shout. Castiel shifted in the backseat, staring at his hands and narrowing his eyes. It was like he was trying to convince his powers to work so he could be of more help.

Which only made Dean feel more guilty. Cas was only trying to help.

There was a long pause of silence and Sam groans before, "Okay. Come back when you can." Dean's voice was numb but anyone who knew him well enough could see how distraught he was as he stared at the road. He couldn't even look at his brother or the angel who was doing a shit healing job.

"Of course." Wings swished in the air and Dean knew the angel had gone.

You take him for granted. A thought trickled in Dean's head, but he forced it from his mind as he stared down at his brother, who had fallen still. Dean hurriedly checked for a pulse, and found one. It was surprisingly strong despite what had happened.

Dean's shoulders shook with grief and guilt as the fight streamed out of him. "You're going to be okay, Sam. I promise you, you're gonna be fine."

When Sam woke up, the first thing he noticed was he was no longer laying on the cold ground. Instead? A surprisingly soft bed greeted his aching body.

Why was he achy?

His eyes flickered open and he… he saw… nothing? Hadn't he opened his eyes? Sam's face contorted with a grim look of surprise. Why couldn't he see? "Dean…?" he said hesitantly. While his first instinct was to panic at his inability to see, he wasn't even sure what was happening.

Cursed, dreaming, a hunt gone wrong… As a hunter, could he really question this blind occurrence?

"Sammy," a sick feeling of anxiety welled in his stomach at Dean's soft voice. His older brother sounded worried, defeated even. "Hey, kiddo, how're you feeling?"

Sam closed his eyes, but the feeling of his eyelashes batting against skin was the only sign he'd really done it. Exhaustion wrung in his limbs and he let out a soft grumble of soreness. "I'm fine," he answered simply, wanting to do as much as he could to ease Dean's worries. "What happened?"

A pause.

"...demons. They uh, ambushed us and your stupid ass used a firework to shoot them." Dean's words were twisted in sarcasm and false annoyance.

The rest of the story clicked in Sam's mind. As if on cue, his sore limbs seemed to get lit on fire, and he grimaced in pain. Sam's eyes flickered open, searching imploringly for Dean. Darkness responded. "Am… what's wrong with me?"

Dean sounded indignant as he replied, "I don't know, you're the one who did it-"

"-No," That hadn't been what Sam had meant. He regretted using the fireworks, but in the end, it'd saved them, so he couldn't be too upset. He'd allow himself to burn in Hell again if it meant saving his brother."I mean… what happened to me?" The young man's voice quivered slightly at the next words, "Why can't I see?"

Please don't say the sight thing is permanent.

The older Winchester blew out a breath, and Sam winced. That bad? "Cas is gonna heal you," Gonna?

"Why not now?"

"His fight in Heaven has him a little drained, I guess," Dean sounded tired. Sam briefly wondered what had caused that. He was betting on seeing lines and lines of empty beer bottles, or maybe a trashed room -maybe both, knowing Dean- if he got his eyesight back.

When he got his eyesight back.

Sam let his eyes close again, finding no comfort in having them open and seeing darkness. "Oh," he sighed. "Right."

There was a pause in their conversation, but Sam could still sense his brother's presence at the side of bed. For a moment, he yearned for the days when they were younger, and he could ask Dean to hold his hand or hold him close without being mocked. He just wanted to see what was happening. Being blind… it made him feel so… helpless. Sam didn't even notice he was crying until the cold tears snaked down his cheeks.

"You're the stupidest person I've ever met," Dean said, amusement tinting his voice.

The young man was not in the mood for jokes. "Funny." It was not.

"No, really," It was clear Dean wasn't letting this one go, eliciting an ill-tempered grumble from the Winchester who was laying down. "You used a firework to blow up demons instead of just asking your awesome big brother for help. Which I could've done."

A smirk presented itself on Sam's face. "You could've defeated them? Dean, you barely handled the one that I originally brought down."

Dean's snorted in laughter. "You didn't take it down, that was all me. You were the one it got the jump on. If you'd been more aware of your surroundings we wouldn't be here now."

"With me… completely unaware of my surroundings?"

"Exactly. It was karma."

Sam paused, a witty remark reaching his lips but not any further. The joke had died before he could bring sound to it. He was fighting back negativity as the feeling of contentment ebbed and flowed in his head. When it hit again, Sam latched onto the source -Dean- and tranquility warmed him when he held onto Dean's hand. "Jerk."

Dean didn't pull his hand away. "Bitch."

It took days to get used to not being able to see.

Sam would drag himself out of bed only to fall back into the comfort of his blankets moments later. The world was just too overwhelming. Every sound was too loud. Every smell too strong. Everything but his eyesight had been enhanced, and he was struggling to keep up.

Nightmares plagued continued to plague him as he slept, but now that he couldn't see, Sam could not just open his eyes to stop them. He had to cry out for Dean or gingerly make his way to the bathroom where the lights were bright enough to kind of seep through the darkness and provide some sort of comfort.

That had to be one of the weirdest things. Seeing in different shades of darkness. He could locate the TV whenever it played because that area was lit up brighter than the motel room. And when he was outside it was like someone was shining a dying flashlight through a thick blanket.

He could see nothing but light and darkness.

It was killing him.

The third day of being blind came all too slowly. Telling time was hard to keep track of, which led to a guessing game or the constant pestering of Dean whenever he wondered. The best way to tell was Cas' arrivals. Sam loved them.

Everytime the angel was back at the motel, something healed inside Sam. First it was his burned arms, then his burned face, and on the third day: the rest. Sam blew out a breath of air when he felt the last of the first-degree injuries fade away. "That feels so much better, Cas, thank you."

A patter of silence.

"Sam?" Cas sounded different then usual, kind of confused. "Open your eyes."

Hope fluttered in Sam's chest as he followed the command. The bleary face of Castiel stared back at him, smiling softly when the young man flinched away at the wave of sunlight. It burned. "Holy shit. Dean, turn off the lights, please?" he clasped his hands over his eyes.

Dean laughed. "Sissy," he mused, but the room was suddenly graced with a comforting, soft darkness. Sam removed his hands and blinked.

The room was surprisingly clean- well, excusing the large bag of glass and trash that Dean had discarded in a corner of the room. The carpet was a faded purple, the pale brown walls chipped with age, and his blankets. "Dean, what the hell? Hello Kitty blankets? How immature are you?" Sam kicked the blanket he'd slept with away with an indignant huff.

"Says the one with the girly blanket," His brother teased, but the smile on his face was indescribably happy. Sam felt the same.

Time for a subject change. "Shut up," He fixed his gaze -of how he loved being able to see- to Castiel. "Thank you so much, Cas. I owe you big time."

Castiel looked awkward at the praise, but gave a soft smile. "You're welcome, Sam. I'm glad I could help."

There was a moment of silence within the three. Sam caught Dean staring at Castiel and took it as a sign to get up. It seemed as if his brother needed to tell the angel something important. "I'm gonna go shower," he commented quietly, getting up.

Dean watched as his brother made his way skillfully to the bathroom. He didn't stumble over nothing or hit a wall or even walk with his arms held out. He just- walked. For the first time in seventy-two hours, he wasn't worried about Sam. Wasn't scared his baby brother would just give up on ever being able to see. Wasn't scared to see the young man cry again.

Gratitude for Castiel brimmed -no, boiled- in the young man's mind. "Cas?" He murmured once the shower in the room clicked on.

"Yes?"

The angel looked up at Dean with wide blue eyes, and his heart skipped a beat. "Uh, thanks, for healing him. I know I haven't been the most thankful but I am, 'kay?"

Three things Dean Winchester wasn't the best at: Thanking, apologizing, comforting.

But Castiel didn't seem to judge his awful way of expressing gratitude and sorriness. He just smiled softly, and nodded. "Try and keep him away from doing something like that again. I do not wish to see Sam in that much turmoil again." The angel stood up, taking on that focused appearance that he got whenever he was going to leave.

That look that said 'I'm in a war against hundreds of other angels, I have to look in charge.'

"Wait," Dean took a step closer to Castiel, who blinked in surprise. The angel glanced at the young man up and down, confused. The Winchester's heart pounded in his chest, echoing against his ribcage like a wild animal.

The angel glanced at the space between them. It was miniscule, a couple inches at most. "I thought you liked your personal space…?"

Dean reached out and cupped Castiel's cheeks, closing the gap as he kissed the angel. At first, he hadn't been sure, but seeing the angel work so hard to help Sam had been it for Dean. Seeing someone care as much about his little brother as he did… was one of the sweetest things Dean had ever encountered.

A second passed and Dean pulled away quickly, staring at the angel with wide eyes. Had what he done been okay? What if he'd ruined their friendship?

Castiel smiled. It was a soft, heart-fluttering smile. And then went in for another kiss, which Dean happily obliged to.

And it was perfect.

And Dean knew in that moment: he was in love with the figure in front of him.

Author's Note: Okay, I do admit I kind of got a little sidetracked on the last part. I'm sorry if you wanted more Sam and Dean brotherly love but I really, really wanted a Destiel kiss and this is already one of the longest chapters I've written so there you go. Sorry for the wait and I hope you enjoyed it! Have an amazing day and I love you all! Please review!