So, I've had the first part of this chapter written for quite sometime, but I wanted to add a second part and make it the whole turning point in the story before posting. Unfortunately, I've developed what we in the fan fic world know as a "real life." For the longest time this was just an urban legend to me - haha - but when a friend's father went and bought 2 new jetskis and decided to store them at her house we just couldn't resist. I've been out at the lake literally every weekend, working 40 hours a week in between, and just started back to school this past Monday. All in all, unfortunately, it means my time for writing has drastically decreased.
So, instead of making you guys wait until I added in the second half of this chapter I went ahead and found a good stopping point to post now. The next chapter is about two thirds written and (hopefully!) will go up soon. I will finish this story - I promise, promise, promise. Just keep those notes of reminder coming. Thanks to everyone who is sticking through this!
Within a week Dean's got things pretty much down pat at Bobby's. Sam has made sure that everything in the house is put away, almost to a point of compulsivity, and that Dean stands no chance of tripping over or running into anything. He can just about come and go as he pleases within the old house, and anytime he falters he's got Dante there to stick his large frame in between him and the danger.
But he just can't get used to the normalcy of the whole situation. It's too simple, too bland. He's like a caged tiger, just pacing and desperate to get out of his pen. And if things don't change soon it won't be long before he ends up snapping.
"Sam, I need to get out of here for a while. Gotta go do something, man," Dean finally whines one afternoon. They're in the living room; Sam on the couch doing research for something or other – he won't tell Dean what - and Dean standing in the entry hall, fingers tapping nervously on the woodwork as he bounces on the balls of his feet. Dante's lying at his feet, eyebrows raised as he watches the man he's come to think of as 'his person' jump around like an addict looking for his next fix.
"So go outside," Sam says without even looking up. He's staring intently at the screen on the monitor, one finger following the words as he takes everything in. "Take Dante with you."
"I've been outside," Dean near whines, bouncing harder in the doorway. "I'm not talking just needing air. I mean I need to get out, get some exercise. I'm going stir crazy here."
"So go for a walk. The junkyard's huge – should be plenty of space to get some exercise."
"Saaaaam," Dean growls out in frustration. "That's not what I mean and you know it. Jesus, bro, throw me a freakin bone here."
At that, Dante perks his ears up and he whimpers slightly. Dean snorts out a laugh and slowly lowers himself to pat the dog on the head, hand flailing slightly in empty space before he finally makes contact. "Sorry boy, bad analogy. I don't have any bones for you."
"So can we do something or not?" he asks, demeanor immediately shifting back to frustration as he stands back up and looks to the general direction he thinks Sam is in.
Sam winces as he sees Dean looking over his head and several feet to Sam's left. That never seems to get any easier for the young hunter, and it's a constant reminder that Dean is far from whole, still dependent on others for some of the simplest of tasks. He sighs, trying to reign in the frustration he's feeling at not being able to get his work done. Dean's acting like a little kid right now and it's not fun, but Sam reminds himself that this isn't any easier on Dean than it is on him, and hey, the guy probably deserves the right to whine every now and again.
"What do you have in mind?" Sam finally asks, resigning himself to the idea that his work load is finished for the day.
Dean shrugs, suddenly unsure of himself now that he's got Sam on his side. "I'm just getting out of shape," he replies by means of an explanation. "I need to get some real exercise."
A hint of anxiety hampers Sam's attempts at staying in control as he asks, "And again, what exactly did you have in mind. No offense, Dean, but you're not exactly in a position to be training right now."
Dean's shoulders sag and he leans against the door a little heavier for support as he lets out a breath of air. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll just…I don't know. Dante and I will be outside."
Seeing Dean deflate so quickly immediately causes Sam's heart to clench, making him regret his words. It's his job to rally his brother, to make him realize that losing his sight doesn't necessarily mean he has to stop living. He stops and thinks for a minute, closing the computer and pushing it to the side. There's got to be something, he thinks as he chews his lip nervously in contemplation.
And then it hits him. "Alright, I've got an idea," Sam says, crossing the room in two quick strides and clamping his hand over Dean's shoulder. "Come on."
"Where're we going?" Dean demands. His pressing need to do the work has quickly been replaced by a reaction of uncertainty and suspicion and it's with a shaky hand that he grips onto Sam's bicep and follows him from the house. Dante isn't far behind, running in circles around Sam and Dean and eyeing Sam up as though he doesn't entirely trust him either.
Sam has to laugh at that one, feeling the irony that a dog has somehow taken his place when it comes to protecting Dean. But at the same time it makes him stop and think and realize that he's not really been there for his brother the way he should have been. Lately it seems as though Dante's been spending more time with Dean than Sam has, while Sam's been spending most of his time buried in his research. Trying to find a way to fix Dean's eyesight. And as much as he feels bad about neglecting his brother, he can't help but feel as though it's for a higher purpose. Isn't it better to fix the problem than to cover it up?
"Your babysitter isn't going to let you out of his sight," Sam snorts, trying not to trip over the big rottie as he guides Dean down the stairs. He doesn't miss the fact that, while Dante is extremely careful with Dean, he's not so concerned about where his body is in relation to Sam, his large rear end planting itself right where Sam needs to step next. Every. Single. Time.
"So you need exercise?" Sam says once they have cleared the steps and are standing somewhere in the middle of Bobby's junkyard. "You're sure about this?"
Dean nods hesitantly. He's still unsure of what Sam has up his sleeve and he's cautious about admitting his preparedness for Sam's scheme regardless of how much he wants it.
"You trust me?"
"With my life," Dean says, more conviction in that answer.
"Then let's do this. Put your hand on my shoulder." Sam doesn't wait for Dean to question, instead grabbing his brother's right hand and planting it firmly on his left shoulder. "Let's go."
Sam steps forward, moving slowly at first, but once Dean has gained his footing he starts moving faster and faster until they're at jogging speed. Beside them, Dante begins barking and jumping at them, frantic that Dean is being taken from his watch, that he might be unsafe. And while Dean is still somewhat apprehensive about this plan he snaps out a firm 'NO' to the dog that puts an immediate end to Dante's reaction.
A minute later they make a sharp right turn and the feel of the surface beneath their feet changes. "Where are we, Sam?"
"Just turned out onto the main road," Sam replies, picking up the pace just a little more now that the ground has evened out and he doesn't feel as concerned about obstacles in the path. "You doin' okay?"
"Yeah, great. How long are we gonna be out here for?" It's a freedom he hasn't felt since before waking up blind; the wind at his face, the feeling of just going forever, knowing that Sam isn't going to let him trip over his own feet or fall over some obstacle in his way.
"As long as you want to stay out here. You just tell me when to turn around."
"Dante's not here with us anymore," Dean observes, suddenly realizing he can't feel the normally constant presence of fur under his hand.
"Stayed behind in the junkyard. Why, do you miss your boyfriend already?"
Dean laughs and smacks Sam good naturedly somewhere on his back with the hand that had been gripping his brother's shoulder, without thinking. They run for another few steps before Dean realizes he's lost his contact with his brother and has a slight panic attack. He stumbles and calls out, "Sam!"
And then his brother is back, grabbing Dean's hand and putting it back onto his shoulder. "Right here, bro. Not going anywhere."
It's all happened so fast, going from security to anxiety and back to security in the blink of an eye. But then, as they continue to run along in silence he thinks back to his reaction when he lost contact with Sam, and realizes for a few beats he'd been running alone with no trouble. It was only once he'd realized contact had been lost that he stumbled. And suddenly it gives him more confidence, makes him realize that he's stronger when he forgets about his blindness. It's not so crippling after all.
He maintains contact with Sam, but now it's more just to be close to his brother instead of the need for protection.
They run in silence for several minutes before Dean breaks it. "Tell me what you can see." It's a request, but not a demand, and it knocks Sam off guard. For the time Dean has been blind he's yet to ask for anything more than the necessities. What might I trip on? Where is the bathroom? What's on my plate? It's like he's finally getting comfortable with himself again, and Sam kicks himself for not thinking to do this sooner. Such a small and insignificant bonding opportunity, but it obviously means a lot to his brother. It means a lot to Sam, too.
"Trees," Sam finally answers, knowing better than to turn this moment into a despised 'chick flick' no matter how much he wants to. "And the sky."
"Smartass," Dean mutters. They both laugh. A real, genuine laugh. The first since Dean lost his sight. "Seriously, Sam. Tell me what I'm missing." And it's probably the deepest Dean has ever been willing to go emotionally.
"Well, um..." Sam looks around, soaking in the scenery flying by as he tries to figure out how you describe something to a blind man. Thankfully, Dean knows color and texture, so it's just a matter of details.
"The sky is perfectly clear. Not a cloud in sight, and about as blue as you can imagine - kinda white blue even. And the sun is shining brightly, but I'm sure you can feel the heat coming off of it."
Dean nods. "Yeah, it is kind of warm." He's been sweating since they left, but it feels good to be doing something to actually break a sweat. He's not about to complain. "What else?"
Silence passes as Sam decides what to describe next. "You know Bobby's pretty much out in the middle of nowhere, so I wasn't really lying when I said trees. It's all forest around us, mostly spruce and some oaks. Everything is green and healthy. There's been a lot of rain, I think, so all the plant life is thriving."
"There are houses somewhere along this road, though, aren't there?"
"Ummm, yeah," Sam says, having to think about it. "We passed one a ways back...before you asked. I think there should be more coming up."
"Oh, there are some wild flowers on the right," Sam is starting to feel more comfortable with this, and as he does so he's starting to see more worth talking about, too. "They're tall and yellow, with black centers. I think maybe daisies."
Dean snorts, trying to maintain his facade of tough in spite of everything else. "Sam, I don't give a damn about some pansy-assed flowers.
"Daisies, Dean, not pansies," Sam retorts back. He seems to recognize Dean's need to pull this as far away from a chick flick moment as possible, the sheer closeness the two are currently sharing is already encroaching on more than Dean can normally deal with.
"Yeah, whatever," Dean grumbles. "Just tell me about anything but flowers, dude, how 'bout cars?"
"Again, middle of nowhere here, Dean. The only cars we've passed have been on blocks buried underneath huge clumps of weeds."
"So nothing driving on the road, huh?"
Sam's sigh of exasperation should have been enough, but he speaks anyway, adding jokingly, "you're supposed to be blind, dude, not deaf. Have you heard any cars come this way?"
Dean goes silent, lets go of Sam's shoulder as his feet stop on the pavement and he bends over, hands on knees, sucking in deep breaths of air. Sam stops a few feet beyond, silent as well when he finally realizes what he's just said, afraid he's just screwed up their camaraderie.
"I– Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean–" He doesn't know how to continue, isn't sure if he should try to explain or simply apologize or just shut up all together. He waits, holds his breath as he watches his brother doubled over and breathing heavily as he tries to get his breathing back under control. "Dean?"
Another several seconds go by before Dean finally stands up, facing a large oak tree across the road and beams. "Had you going there for a second, huh bro?" A deep chuckle finds its way out of Dean and Sam just stands there, stunned, as he tries to make sense of what's just happened.
He'd thought for sure he'd just caused Dean to take two steps back in his recovery. It was the first time he'd ever spoken so candidly about Dean being blind, and as soon as it was out of his mouth he knew Dean wasn't yet ready for that kind of bluntness. And yet, here his brother stands, making a joke out of Sam's mistake, thinking quick on his feet and going so far as to prank him.
It takes a while for Sam to come out of his stupor, and by then Dean is laughing up a storm at Sam's reaction. Dean doesn't have to see to know Sam is standing dumbstruck and all emo in the middle of the road, worrying about calling Dean out on his blindness. He can feel the tension, hear the sharp intake of his baby brother's breath.
"You jerk," Sam says, all anger and anxiety erased from his tone by the time he manages to speak.
"Bitch," Dean retorts back.
And that's when they both know things are going to be okay.