Alright guys, here we go again. I hate to do the constant apology thing, but I have to apologize for not responding to any of your wonderful and oh-so-encouraging reviews. I just spent the entire last week planning and then carrying out an alumni weekend with 5 events back to back. It was crazy, I'm exhausted, and I barely had time to check email let alone respond to any of them. Things will be slowing down for me now in the next few weeks, so I promise all of you will get lovely little responses to your (hopefully) abumdant reviews this week. I promise!! Regardless, here we go on this chapter. Things are about to turn around and move forward. Hope you like...
If it opens its mouth, turn away, Sam had told him. More than once, in fact. It had become a mantra of sorts. The only thing they really had to know of the Klower demon; its only real defense.
They had spent another two years together after opening the hell gates, working tirelessly to send every last evil that had been released from the hellmouth back to where it belonged before fate intervened. The Klower was a lesser demon really, which made it all the more ironic that Dean had been felled so drastically, so permanently, by it. That he had made it through the opening of Hell's gates, that he had survived through the killing of the yellow eyed demon, that Sam had managed to save him from the deal he'd made with the crossroads demon, and yet the Klower dropped him.
Dean had laughed when they finally came face to face with the Klower, all of Sam's carefully spoken words of warning flying from his mind in one fell swoop. The thing was barely two feet tall, appearing in its natural form - the Klowers generally lacked the strength to inhabit human beings - and the only reason the brothers were even bothering with this particular case was because this demon was tormenting an orphanage.
It didn't have the strength to kill, had yet to truly maim anyone, but the havoc it was wreaking within the walls of the small catholic children's home was enough to bring the Winchester's running. By all accounts the kids were terrified to go to sleep, fear of the monster hiding in their closets and under their beds keeping every last one of them up all through the night. The few toys in the orphanage had been destroyed, clothing torn to shreds, and a handful of children had come away with scratches and bruises. But because they were children, of no real threat to the demon, none had been unlucky enough to come into contact with the acidic venom that could shoot from the demon's forked tongue.
When Dean and Sam had arrived the orphanage was in a complete disarray, children either throwing temper tantrums in their exhaustion or walking around like little zombies, trying not to fall asleep. Piles of shattered toys and ripped clothing overfilled the trashcans. And the nuns who ran the home were absolutely beside themselves.
Sam had done the research on their way to the job, so they were ready to get down to business that first night. As luck would have it, being a devout catholic orphanage, the sisters were open to the idea of demons and destruction, and allowed Sam and Dean to do their work with barely a flinch. And late that night, almost closer to morning, their studious vigil for the Klower demon came to a close as the little beast emerged from his hiding place in a closet and began his routine.
Around two am the children had finally decided to trust Sam and Dean enough to attempt to sleep, and the entire room was now filled with soft snores. Each of the brother's had taken point on opposite ends of the room, so when the demon emerged, dragging a clubbed foot behind him with a low scraping sound it was Dean who heard it first. His head snapped up, eyes focusing more in the dim morning light, and took in the sight of the grotesque demon.
As Sam had predicted, it was barely two feet tall, it's large round head taking up a good third of his height. He wore no clothing, save for a small cloth tied around his waist, and his skin was greyed and wrinkly, sagging as though it had been stretched out of proportion. Skin sat between the gaps in his fingers and toes, creating a webbed look. His hair was a wild mass of curls and tangles, sticking up in all directions and hanging over his beady black eyes. Pointed ears peeked through the tangle of hair, twitching as they listened to the sounds of snores from the children.
The Klower didn't speak, instead simply limping over to the first child, the first bed. He was inches away from Dean, yet didn't even look in his direction, as though the hunter was totally insignificant in all of this, a mere fixture in the room. But as the demon reached for the sheet the child slept under Dean made the decision that the torment would end right there and then.
Jumping from his chair Dean lunged at the demon, ready to grab at him and get him away from the child, but the demon anticipated Dean's attack and stepped out of the way just in time. Dean went down hard, landing with a jarring thud on the cold tiled floor, and the Klower took off.
In an instant, Sam was on his feet and chasing after the small beast, surprised at the speed and agility it seemed to maintain in spite of its size and the obvious infirmity to its foot. The demon managed to run out the door to the large bedroom before Sam could even cross to that part of the room, but still the hunter persisted in his chase. Soon, Dean caught up in the chase, just in time to watch the demon scramble out a window and into the vast fields that stretched away from the orphanage in every direction.
Dawn was on the horizon, sunlight just bright enough to cast eery shadows across the wheat fields when Sam and Dean burst through the main doors after the Klower. The little demon was already out of sight, his shortened height an obvious advantage in the towering fields, but the frantic rustle of husks and grasses allowed the brothers to still locate the direction their prey was headed. They took off at full sprint, finally gaining on the beast, but not without noticeable struggle.
Minutes passed in their chase until finally the fields ended and a large, dilapidated barn came into view. Pushing for one more burst of speed, Dean surged past Sam and finally closed the distance between himself and the Klower.
"If it opens its mouth, turn away!" Sam screamed at him, panting heavily, as Dean's hand finally came down on the demon's arm. He squeezed tight, making sure he had a firm hold.
"It's the end of the line, buddy," Dean spat out, jerking the little beast off its feet.
The Klower spun its head around and glared at Dean for mere seconds before letting out a low hiss. It's mouth widened, eyes growing larger at the same time, and Dean found himself mesmerized by the spinning dilation in the black orbs. In the distance he could hear his brother calling to him, screaming. "Turn away, Dean. Don't look at it."
But by then it was too late. He felt the acid as it splashed on his face, searing into his eyes, burning the skin around them. He let go of the demon in a flash, hands pulling up to his face as he tried to claw at the tumultuous agony that claimed his face. Feeling himself fall to his knees, Dean was just barely aware of the sound of gunshots, of agonized screaming, and then Sam's hands on his wrists pulling them away from his face.
If it opens his mouth, turn away. Simple words, simple commands. It should have been easy to follow. It was a simple hunt. And yet...
"Dean. Dean, wake up. Come on, bro."
Dean comes alert in stages, still reeling from the all too vivid dream, the reminder of how he'd lost his sight. He can hear Sam calling to him, can feel his brother's hands tapping his cheek, and finally he reaches a hand up and grabs at Sam's wrist. Pulling the offending hand away from his face Dean slowly opens his eyes, and then realizes it is still a lesson in futility. Damn. Still blind. Don't know exactly what I was expecting.
The panic in Sam's voice seems to ease off as Dean stirs, but he doesn't back off entirely. "Dean, you alright? How's your head feel?"
For a minute Dean just lays there, taking comfort in Sam's arms as he reorients himself to the sounds and scents around him. But then he remembers that he's mad at Sam, remembers that his brother has been out here spying on him for God only knows how long, and probably laughing his ass off at Dean's misfortunes.
Doing a complete about face Dean pulls away from Sam's hold and starts to climb to his feet on his own. "Dude, I'm good. Get off me," he snarls as he scrambles away from his brother, hands and arms pinwheeling in search of something concrete that isn't Sam. His hands finally make contact with one of the poles holding the awning up over the sidewalk and he uses that to pull himself to his feet before spinning in the general direction he thinks Sam is in.
"What the hell did you think you were doing? Were you spying on me?"
Sam hedges around the answer, clearing his throat nervously, but doesn't manage to eek out an answer before Dean's demands continue.
"How long have you been standing out here? What did you hear? Answer me, damnit!"
"Dean, I–"
"No, Sam, don't start lying to me. I want the truth."
Sighing, Sam bends down and picks up Dean's cane, nudging his hand with it before suggesting, "It's cold out here, Dean. Why don't we go inside and talk about this."
Dean jerks the cane out of Sam's hand and grips it tight as he tries to compose himself, make it look like he isn't nearly as scared or dependent as he actually is. "Fine, lets go."
He's limping now, added to everything else, and the combination makes for a sloppy retreat back to the room. It doesn't help that, despite the fact he's furious with Sam, he still has to rely on him to find the damn door. But as soon as they hit the threshold Dean shakes off his brother's help and makes his way toward the bed on his own.
"Alright, we're inside. Talk, Sam."
"I don't know what you want me to say, Dean. You kicked me out of the room, I had nowhere to go, so I just stood outside and waited until you'd cooled down. End of story."
"Not end of story, Sam. It's practically in the negative digits out there and you just decided to hang out for the past hour? I don't think so. I'm blind, Sam, not stupid. Try again."
Sam's tone picks up a whine to it as he insists, "I wasn't spying on you. I was just...I don't know..."
"Watching me through the window in hopes that I wouldn't find out?" Dean asks snidely.
"Well...yeah," Sam finally admits, deflating. His body makes a loud whoosh as he sinks to his own bed in defeat. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I had nowhere else to go, so I just watched."
As an afterthought, Sam quickly adds, "If it means anything, I was impressed by how well you got around once you finally got your act together. Maybe it was a good thing for you to be left on your own for so long."
Dean snorts. "Thanks for the pep-talk, Sam. I guess I can rest easy now that you're so impressed with me."
"Quit being such and ass, Dean. I'm just trying to help you. Could you give me that much?"
"Why? Why should I give you anything when you can't seem to return the favor? I'm the one who's blind here, Sam. Me! Not you. So quit making this all about your needs and your problems."
"Then tell me what to do! Tell me what the hell you need and I'll get it for you. You promised me before we left rehab that you would try, that you would let me help you, that you would continue to focus on your rehab. And yet, you've just laid around the room like some overgown lump, feeling sorry for yourself. So forgive me if my actions aren't exactly what you want, but I'm just trying to help you get back on your feet the only way I know how!"
Already sitting on the bed, Dean has no other recourse other than to drop his head into his hands and sigh. Silence reigns for a time, Sam waiting with baited breath for an opening from Dean, Dean agonizing over whether or not he can even let his brother in.
"You wanna help, Sam?" Dean finally asks.
"Of course I do. You know I do."
"Then back off." Dean says it low and threatening, but Sam takes no credence to the tone.
"I can't do that, Dean. Offer me something else."
"Why the hell not, Sam? Why is it so goddamn hard for you to just back off and let me do this on my own? Just give me some space!"
"Because I have a big brother who taught me differently," Sam replies softly after a time of thoughtful silence.
Dean sighs, considering the revelation, and then, "This is different, Sam."
"Like hell it is!" Sam spits out, jumping from his bed and beginning to pace the room as he picks up the objects Dean's earlier rampage had left on the floor. "How is this different, Dean? How is this different from any other time you've been hurt or sick? How is my behavior any different than yours would be if it was me in your position?"
The thought of Sam going through the same thing Dean is currently dealing with is too much to bear and he visibly flinches. His hands unconsciously wrap tighter around the cane he's holding, wringing around the slender body. "I can handle this, Sam." Dean says, by way of avoiding the answer.
Sam finally stops what he's doing and quietly lets a pencil drop to the desk as he turns to look at his brother. He softens, somehow seeing the pain he's inflicted on his brother just by the sheer suggestion that this could have just as easily gone the other way. It could have been Sam taking the acid shot from the Klower's mouth. It could be Sam sitting on the bed with a cane clenched tight in his hands as he struggles with the darkness that surrounds his every moment.
He crosses the room and crouches in front of Dean, placing his hand on his brother's knee and doesn't let up when Dean flinches at the contact. "I have no doubt that you can do this on your own, Dean. But you shouldn't have to. We're a team, you and me, and we're going to face this as a team. Together."
Dean shakes his head and then looks in the direction of a spot just over Sam's left ear. "I can't ask you to do that, Sam. I'm out for the count, now. No more hunting in my cards. I can't protect you."
"What does our working together to beat this thing have anything to do with you not being able to protect me?" Sam demands, incredulous at the one track mind his brother seems to have. "I didn't ask if we could go find the next haunted mansion and burn us some ghostly remains. I'm just asking that you let me help you find your way, figure out the best way to deal with this. And maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to reverse it."
"You heard the doctors, Sam. There's no cure. My corneas were burned. That's it, end of story."
"Maybe that's it based in the medical world, but we have a whole other world out there that they don't even know about."
"I'm not taking any more deals, Sam. You and I both know that nothing good ever comes of that. It's a wonder I'm still alive at all, so if this is what I gotta live with then I guess it's better than nothing."
"Your sense of martyrdom is amazing," Sam replies, scoffing slightly at the almost rote statements that Dean is spewing. "It's just too bad you don't sound as though you mean any of it."
"Sam..."
"No, Dean, listen to me. We just need to take things one step at a time, starting with getting back on track with your rehab. I'll keep researching ways to fix this, but I promise to run anything past you before I pursue it. How's that for a deal?"
Dean shrugs, huffs, runs his hand through his hair and looks away from Sam despite the fact that he isn't seeing anything no matter where his eyes are turned. It's the symbolism more than anything else that has him turning away from his brother, turning away from the challenge. He has to think about it, really think about it. They've already made a deal, from when he left the rehab hospital, and that hasn't done either one of them any good. Sam dropped out on his end of the deal, and while Dean isn't about to admit it to his little brother, he knows he's failed on his own promise. So what good will agreeing to another deal do either one of them?
But then again, Sam seems so desperate to help, to be a part of this. And if he doesn't agree to the deal Sam's offered Dean fears it will end up just being more of the same. More of Sam pushing and imposing where he isn't wanted, throwing in his two sense when Dean hasn't asked for it. So maybe...maybe if Dean accepts the deal and puts forth a real effort to hold up his end of the bargain then Sam will back off just a bit and listen to Dean's own requests. It's worth a try, he final relents to himself, returning his blank gaze to the general direction of his brother.
"You promise you'll keep me posted on everything you're doing, all your research?"
"Of course," Sam answers, more excited than Dean would have expected. He can practically visualize his little brother panting with anticipation, eyes sparkling and eager. "You'll know every step of the process."
"And if I put forth more effort to learn my way around, you'll back off and listen to me when I say I need space?"
"If your effort includes actually leaving this hotel room then yeah, I'll heed your requests."
"Alright then, Sam, it's a deal."
Sam lets out a huge breath of relief and finally climbs to his feet, ready to get on with their lives now that Dean seems to be ready to join him. "That's great, Dean. Thank you."
Going back cleaning up the rest of the room silence takes over once again, although the air seems to be lighter, less stuffy. Which makes it so much harder for Sam to say what he's got to say next. It has to be said, has to be done, but he knows without a doubt that Dean is going to be pissed with a capital P.
He debates over saying anything, wondering if maybe he could work out a way to get Dean to where they need to be without actually telling him where they're going. He is blind, after all, wouldn't be able to read the street signs or the directions.
But Dean has always had a bit of a sixth sense about him, and somehow Sam knows he'd figure it out whether he says something or not. And there is no doubt that in the grand scheme of things it will be better to come out now rather than later.
"So, um, Dean," Sam hedges, purposely making sure to stay well out of his brother's arm reach on this one. "Um, in the interest of full disclosure, I figure I ought to tell you something.
"Yeah?" Dean asks, tension in his voice in recognition of the fact he won't like what he's about to hear.
"It's not that big a deal. Really gonna help us out a lot, ya know?"
"What did you do, Sam?"
"I, uh..." Suddenly the tension has grown so thick it could be cut with a plastic knife and Sam is questioning his sanity in doing what he's done. But he can't turn back now, and he finally makes the decision just to forge ahead. "I called Bobby."