Chapter Eleven

Dean watched Sam's jaw clench as Jefferson carefully poked at the incision on his side. Dean felt his brother squeeze his hand tightly and knew that his brother was in pain, even as the doctor apologized quietly.

John and Bobby were standing in the kitchen doorway, coffee cups in hand and anxious expressions on their faces, trying not to hover too much.

The older brother frowned as Jefferson's bushy, grey eyebrows knitted together.

"Sam, did you receive any care after the surgery?" the grizzled doctor asked, trying to sound as professional as possible but Dean could clearly see the man's furrowed brow and deep frown.

The youngest Winchester shook his head, his breath hitching for a moment before he spoke up, "I d-didn't even know wha-what was going to happen. They j-just took me to the r-room and put me to sl-sleep…"

"It's alright, son," Jefferson mumbled soothingly and Dean rubbed his thumb over his brother's knuckles comfortingly.

"I w-woke up and I f-felt s-so bad… my side hurt so m-much," Sam said softly, "I don't re-really remember e-everything… I'm sorry."

The doctor shook his head, "You have nothing to be sorry for. So after this Dr. Bates removed your kidney he just sent you back to the room they were keeping you in?"

Sam gulped, "Y-yeah."

Dean narrowed his eyes and looked to the friendly doctor.

"Why? Is that important?" he asked Jefferson and the old man bobbed his head.

"Blood clots are sometimes a result of having a kidney removed," the doctor explained, "I don't think these people were overly concerned with that outcome."

Dean paled visibly. Sam could have died and no one at that hospital would have cared.

"Normally precautions are taken to prevent clotting," Jefferson continued, "Patients are sometimes given special stockings to wear or have shots."

"But Sam's okay now? Right?" Dean asked, praying that Jefferson would say that his brother was in the clear.

"Yes," the grizzled doctor said positively, "Sam is out of danger of suffering any clots."

Dean glanced down at his sibling and ran a hand over Sam's stubbly hair, wishing that it was long like it used to be before those assholes had chopped it off. Sam smiled at his older brother's touch.

"Sam still only has one kidney though," John's voice made Dean jump. His father had moved from the kitchen doorway and was standing in the living room, still distant from his sons but close enough so that he didn't have to raise his voice to speak to Jefferson.

Bobby remained where he was, shaking his head and muttering under his breath, probably calling his fellow hunter an idjit.

"As long as Sam's remaining kidney stays healthy," Jefferson explained, "He should be fine."

John frowned, not liking the sound of that at all.

"What about a transplant?" The eldest Winchester asked.

Jefferson rubbed his chin, "That is always an option but John, Sam could be on the wait-list for a long time… months or even years because although he is young, he still has one fully-functional kidney. There is no reason why Sam can't live a happy, healthy life with one kidney."

"Is there any special diet he should be on? Should he avoid certain foods… sugar or salt or alcohol?" John continued.

Dean looked down when Sam's squeezed his hand almost painfully and he looked pleadingly at the doctor.

"No," Jefferson said, "Sam can eat anything and everything."

"Alright," John said in a way that told Dean that nothing about this was alright and sighed, retreating back to the kitchen to refill his coffee cup.

"You okay, Sammy?" Dean leaned over close to his brother and whispered in Sam's ear.

"Yeah," the younger sibling mumbled but Dean frowned at the line of moisture that ran down one of his cheeks.

Dean used his sleeve to wipe his brother's face and rubbed Sam's arm.

"Why don't you try and get some sleep? When you wake up I'll make you something to eat," Dean suggested and Sam nodded, closing his eyes.

Jefferson gave the older brother a slight nod and Dean stood, following the good doctor into the kitchen.

John looked pleadingly at the older man, "Do you think you could take a look at Sam's eyes? There has to be a way to fix them, right?"

Dean cringed inwardly at the desperation in his father's voice. Jefferson poured himself a cup of coffee and didn't answer for a moment. Dean had been trying not to think about what that son of a bitch had done to his brother's eyes. He knew there was a very real chance that Sam would never see again but he didn't allow himself to dwell too much on the thought.

The old doctor nodded, he looked worried but Dean tried to ignore that. Jefferson would be able to tell them exactly what that bastard Bates had done to Sam's eyes.

Although reluctant to wake his brother, Dean walked back into the den and crouched beside the couch. Reaching out a hand, he gently shook Sam's shoulder.

The younger man jumped and his eyes flew open, "No! Please!"

"Shhh," Dean cooed, "It's okay, it's just me."

"Dean?" Sam asked, blinking owlishly and relaxed beneath his brother's hand.

"Yeah, Sammy," he muttered, "Sorry to wake you… Is it alright if Jefferson takes a look at your eyes?"

Sam's brow furrowed, "O-okay… I guess."

Dean squeezed his brother's shoulder, "It won't hurt. I promise."

Helping his sibling sit up, Dean plopped down next to him and waited as the old doctor walked into the room, followed closely by John and Bobby.

Jefferson crouched down in front of the Winchester boys and pulled a pen light from his shirt pocket.

"Can you tilt your head up for me Sam and open your eyes as wide as you can?" Jefferson asked, his tone nothing but professional.

Sam complied, swallowing nervously. Dean watched as Jefferson squinted his own eyes as he shone the bright light in Sam's milky ones.

Dean's brow furrowed when Jefferson frowned. John and Bobby inched closer to the couch, concern clear on both their faces. The doctor turned off his penlight and told Sam he could relax.

"What is it?" John asked. Dean wrapped an arm around his brother's shoulders comfortingly.

Jefferson shook his head for a moment, looking surprised, "It's Sam's corneas."

"What do you mean?" Bobby grumbled out.

"I think your doctor Bates transplanted Sam's corneas, I could see the stitches he used," Jefferson answered, his face actually going pale. Dean stared at his brother, "That's what happened, Sam?"

Before his brother could answer, Dean reached up and took his brother's face in his hands; he was nearly nose-to-nose with Sam when he saw it; there were hair-thin sutures criss-crossing the iris, the structure no longer completely smooth as the stitches caused minute folds in the cornea that Dean supposed would even out once the stitches were removed or dissolved.

Dean could have kicked himself. They had been so concerned about his brother's kidney that they hadn't bothered getting a closer look at Sam's eyes. He hugged his brother when Sam began to tremble, still clearly shaken from the memory of what he'd gone through at that hospital.

"Why? Sam didn't need it," John asked and Dean almost glared at his father. Did that son of a bitch need a reason for cutting up someone's eyes?

"Why does it matter?!" Dean snapped at his father, "Sam can't fucking see!"

"All right," Bobby took an assertive step forward, ready to referee if a fight should break out, "Calm down you two!"

John wiped a hand down his face, "Dean's right. Jefferson, is there a way to fix this?"

"I couldn't tell you, John," the eldest Winchester seemed to sag with the words, "But I have a friend who's an eye specialist, she'll be able to let you know if there's any hope of restoring Sam's sight… she actually doesn't live too far from here."

John nodded and Jefferson clapped a hand on his shoulder companionably. Dean swallowed thickly, knowing his father would take the old doctor's advice, if there was any chance of Sam getting his sight back John would not let it pass on by.

SPN

Sam twisted his hands together nervously in his lap. He stopped when he felt Dean's warm palm close over his fingers.

"It's gonna be okay, Sammy," his brother told him in a hushed voice. Sam tried to smile and nodded.

The motion of the Impala's wheels over the road had a soothing effect on the youngest Winchester and he sighed as he leaned back against the seat. Dean had insisted he sit in the back of the car with Sam and the younger brother didn't complain. Sam actually felt much more comfortable having his brother share the bench seat with him; all he had to do was reach out a hand and he'd know that Dean was right beside him.

"How much longer, Dad?" Sam heard his brother's voice call up to their father.

There was a grunt from the direction of the driver's seat- right in front of Sam- and John's gruff voice answered, "Hour and a half maybe."

Dean squeezed Sam's hand encouragingly and the younger brother returned the gesture.

"Why don't you close your eyes for a little bit?" Dean suggested and Sam shrugged. He might as well, it wasn't like he could watch the scenery fly by out the window the way he would do when he was younger.

Sam slid his eyes closed, the darkness enveloping him- somehow less frightening than the persistent whiteness that obscured his vision- and was soon in a deep sleep.

SPN

Dean stared at the grey ribbon of highway rolling out before them. He wished Jefferson's friend lived closer to Sioux Falls, even though Pierre was only four hours away the drive seemed to be taking far too long for his liking.

Sighing impatiently, Dean fidgeted on the bench seat but smiled when he caught sight of his brother; Sam's chin was touching his chest, his hands lying limp in his lap, his breathing slow and steady. Dean was glad that his sibling was able to get some decent rest because it seemed like Sam hadn't had any quality rest in a long while. Dean shuddered; he had seen the room that asshole doctor had been keeping his brother in and he didn't blame Sam for not wanting to go to sleep in that place.

Once given the all-clear by Jefferson that Sam wouldn't have to be on any special diet the three older hunters had made sure that the young man wouldn't go hungry for another minute longer. Bobby had taken two extra large frozen pizzas and a loaf of garlic bread out for dinner and asked the good doctor if he'd like to stay. Jefferson, although clearly pleased by the invitation- Dean guessed that helping out injured hunters could be a thankless job- he declined, wanting the small family to spend some time together by themselves.

Sam hadn't eaten as much as Dean would have liked but the older brother kept his mouth shut. It must be strange to eat something and not be able to see what it was, even if it was just pizza.

While the two oldest hunters had retreated upstairs to their beds, Dean had camped out on the floor beside the couch, reluctant to leave his brother's side even though he knew Sam was safe. He wanted to be close incase Sam needed him in the middle of the night.

John had wanted to meet up with Jefferson's optometrist friend as soon as possible and the next morning, after a quick breakfast of fried egg sandwiches, had piled his sons in the Impala and pointed the classic Chevy in the direction of the state capital. Bobby had decided to stay back, give the Winchesters some privacy although he considered Sam as much his son as if the young man was his own blood, not wanting to tarnish the suddenly genial relationship with John; knowing that the younger hunter would not appreciate having his toes stepped on at this point in time.

Dean leaned forward restlessly and reached towards the radio, "It's too quiet in here."

John glanced down at his eldest's hand and turned the dial for the radio, quickly lowering the volume so the music wouldn't wake Sam.

The older brother hummed along to the song as it played, his feet tapping out the rhythm against the floor mat. He tried not to think about the possibility that Sam might never regain his sight, he didn't want to even consider it, even if he knew it could be true. Sam had already had enough shit happen to him in the past weeks he sure as hell didn't need this piled on top as well.

Dean prayed that fate or destiny or whatever it was would give his brother a break just this once and everything would be alright in the end.

The older brother chewed his lip nervously and glanced at his sleeping sibling. He'd never know that Sam was blind and he wished that it wasn't the case and that they were just on another long, boring road trip to save someone from monsters like they used to do.

Dean's life had already been turned upside down by his brother's decision to go to college and the kid's subsequent abduction, he didn't know if he could handle any more unpleasant surprises.

W

Dean tapped his foot anxiously on the caramel-coloured tile floor of the waiting room. He stared at the posters along the beige walls advertizing contact lenses, laser-eye surgery and the importance of seeing an optometrist regularly. Sam was hunched over in the chair beside his brother, hands gripping the arms of his chair tightly. John sat on Dean's other side, squinting at the fine print on all the forms he was required to fill-out for his youngest son.

The older brother was glad that they were the only people waiting for an appointment. He didn't think he'd be able to handle it if people started staring at his sibling, even if Sam couldn't see them himself, Dean would and he was damned if he would allow the kid to be subjected to that kind of humiliation.

The ladies at the reception desk were nice enough; they'd smiled warmly at John while Dean led his brother to the chairs along the wall and sat down. Then again, they were probably used to seeing all sorts of eye conditions that a young man with milky eyes didn't bother them. Dean gritted his teeth; not everyone was going to be so tactful if this all turned out as a dead end and Sam remained blind.

Dean sighed and Sam turned his head slightly towards the sound.

"Dean?" Sam asked but the older boy shrugged, "Nothing, Sammy… just the music."

He lifted a hand and gestured to the speakers in the ceiling piping in 'soft' rock. Sam smiled a little, catching Bon Jovi singing 'Living On A Prayer'.

John stood and stretched startling Sam with the sudden movement.

"Sorry son," the eldest Winchester apologized, looking sheepish before crossing to the reception desk and handing over the clipboard and form.

Approaching his sons, John tried to keep from looking at Sam's eyes as he spoke to Dean.

"Do you want anything? I was going to walk over to that coffee shop down the street?" he asked. Dean watched as his father's gaze slowly slipped past him and pinned on his youngest's milky eyes.

"I'm fine," Dean crossed his arms to show his displeasure and John snapped back to attention, zeroing in on his oldest son's frown.

"Sammy? You want anything?" Dean asked, hoping his brother would say yes, the kid was still recovering from that mad doctor's ministrations and he'd lost an alarming amount of weight in the weeks he'd been held captive.

"A donut or muffin?" Dean continued but Sam shook his head.

"Alright," John said, "Call my cell if you change your mind."

Dean nodded and watched his father leave the optometrist's. He reached out and rubbed his brother's arm.

"You should really eat something," he muttered to Sam.

"I don't think I can, Dean," Sam whispered in response and Dean frowned. He should have known the kid was nervous. Hell, he was nervous. But when Sam got stressed he tended to forget about the fact that he needed to eat and drink and sleep.

"It's going to be okay," Dean assured his brother, "Jefferson's a great doctor and his friend's just as awesome."

Sam gave a ghost of a smile and straightened in his chair, grimacing slightly.

"You okay?" Dean asked anxiously and Sam nodded quickly.

"It's just… you know," Sam lowered his head to his left side to indicate the still-healing wound in his side.

"Twinges a bit," Sam muttered but Dean wasn't convinced.

"I think there's Tylenol in the car, do you want one?" Dean asked.

"I'll be fine," Sam insisted.

I hope you're right; Dean thought and sat back, reading a poster outlining the symptoms of glaucoma while he waited for his father to return.

SPN

Sam's heart was beating frantically in his chest. He knew he really had nothing to be anxious- frightened- about but not being able to see his surroundings was extremely disorienting. It had been alright when he'd been at Bobby's. Sure, he'd pretty much only made himself a nest on the couch and hadn't moved but that wasn't the point. Sam remembered what the veteran hunter's house looked like, inside and out. He recalled where every piece of furniture was but now, even though he was just in some office waiting room, Sam felt extremely exposed. He didn't know where anything was, he was at the mercy of his brother. He was dependent on Dean to lead him around objects and not hit anything.

Sam strained his ears to catch the whispered conversation of the women at the reception desk, attempting to gauge the distance between himself and them simply by virtue of his hearing but it was harder then it seemed.

The youngest Winchester scowled to himself. Hollywood made being blind seem so easy, like the loss of one sense would magically be compensated by the others- not that Sam believed everything he saw in movies- and then life would be practically back to normal. If only his life was like a film and there was a magical cure waiting for him. Sam realized that he probably wasn't going to get his sight back, that this wasn't just some side-effect of the transplant, it seemed permanent. If it had only been temporary it would probably have worn off by now.

Sam sucked in a shaky breath and jumped a little when he felt Dean's hand close around his own, his fingers still gripping the arm of his chair in a death-grip.

The sound of a door opening and heavy footsteps announced John's return.

"Here," Sam's father said and his brother grumbled something.

"Sammy," Dean spoke up and Sam turned his head towards his brother's voice, "You have this."

Sam lifted a hand and felt a warm smooth cylinder pressed against his palm- a paper coffee cup- and he quickly tightened his grip on it.

"Don't you want it?" Sam asked, wrapping both hands around the cup and breathing in the scent of hot chocolate.

"Nah," Dean muttered, "Knock yourself out."

Sam gave a lopsided smile and nodded. The last thing he wanted was something in his stomach while he was so anxious, but he knew Dean didn't really like cocoa. He was more of a coffee and Jack Daniels kind of guy.

Sam raised his head when he heard his father chuckle from Dean's other side and realized that John knew exactly what he was doing when he gave his eldest the paper cup.

SPN

"Sam Winchester?"

Dean looked up at the grey-haired woman standing by the reception desk. His brother lifted his head and grabbed at Dean's hand.

The small family stood and Dean led his sibling towards the woman. John took the half-finished cup of hot chocolate from his youngest son and deposited it in the trash can beside the reception desk as they passed.

"I'm Dr. Monticello," the woman explained as they headed down the hallway toward the exam rooms.

Dean felt his brother's grip tighten as John squeezed by them to walk beside doctor.

The optometrist shepherded the Winchesters into her office and Dean led his brother to the raised, black faux-leather padded exam chair in the middle of the room. Instead of taking a seat beside John, the older brother pulled the second cushioned chair set aside for family members, across the small office until it was right beside the patient's chair.

Dr. Monticello positioned herself so that she could see both John and Dean.

"Geoffrey has explained your situation as delicate in nature," the doctor began, "So, I'll do my best not to ask too many prying questions, alright?"

John nodded, "We don't mean to complicate things Dr. Monticello. We just… value our privacy."

"I understand," the woman said and smiled.

Dean's brow furrowed. Geoffrey? Was she talking about Jefferson? No wonder the old man never told anyone his first name! Geoffrey Jefferson sounded like some superhero's alter ego!

Catching his father's disapproving glare, Dean turned his smirk into a concerned frown and patted his brother's arm comfortingly.

"Geoffrey said that Sam received a cornea transplant in both eyes," Dr. Monticello said and both John and Dean nodded.

Dean hoped that the optometrist wouldn't ask all the why's and when's- it wasn't that he didn't think he couldn't lie about it, he could, but it would only complicate things. She might ask for medical records that they just didn't have- but luckily the woman just nodded.

"I'm going to do some tests to see the extent of the damage," Dr. Monticello told them, "They shouldn't hurt."

Sam's hand wrapped around his brother's as the lights turned off and the optometrist sat down in her rolling chair and approached the young men. The doctor opened one of her desk drawers and pulled out a device that looked like a mix between a metal flashlight and some sort of remote control.

"Okay Sam," she said in a calm, professional manner, "I want you to look up at the ceiling for me."

Dean stared at his brother and the doctor as the woman held the ophthalmoscope in front of his brother's eyes and shone a bright light directly into the right one.

John leaned forward, elbows on his thighs as he watched the doctor work. Dr. Monticello asked Sam to look up, down and to either side and then repeated the procedure with his left eye.

"What does that do?" Dean asked. He doubted that Sam could see the bright light that was shining in his eyes and he wanted to know what the point was.

"This allows me to see the structures of the eye- including the cornea- more clearly," Dr. Monticello said and left her seat to turn the overhead lights back on.

Dean felt a lump form in his throat at the look on the optometrist's face.

"Well, can this be fixed?" John asked nervously, still clinging to hope.

Dr. Monticello sighed sadly and ran a hand through her long grey hair. Her blue eyes crinkled at the corners, not with a smile, but with a grimace.

"I'm not passing judgment on you," she began slowly, "But whoever you had transplant Sam's corneas was an incompetent butcher."

Dean felt Sam tense beside him. Leaning over, he wrapped an arm around his younger brother's shoulders comfortingly.

"The eye is a very delicate organ," the doctor continued when the Winchesters remained silent, "and you can't just mess around with it without knowing what you're doing. Whoever did this should have their license taken away."

"So there's no way… nothing that can be done?" John asked, his voice sounding hollow and sad, startling both his boys.

"I don't think so," the optometrist said, "the surgery left a great deal of scarring deep in Sam's eyes and besides that, I think he had an allergic reaction of some sort to the material of the corneas."

John looked dumbfounded, "What do you mean?"

Dean frowned. Allergic reaction? He'd heard of people rejecting donated organs but he had never before heard it called an allergic reaction… and what kind of material? Corneas were all made out of the same stuff, weren't they?

Dr. Monticello explained, her expression confused, "Those corneas did not come from another person."

John sat up so fast it was as though he'd received an electric shock. Dean tightened his grip on his brother and heard Sam squeak in pain before loosening his hold.

"They what?" Dean asked, horrified.

"The corneas are not natural," Dr. Monticello said, "They are clearly a synthetic material."

Dean turned to face Sam and stared at his brother's milky eyes as though he would be able to tell the difference between a real cornea and a fake one.

John's hands tightened into fists. He wanted to beat that son of a bitch Dr. Bates to death with his own hands. It didn't seem enough that the villain had been shot in the head, no, John wanted him to suffer for what he'd done to his child.

"What do we do now?" Sam's voice was so quiet Dean didn't think the optometrist would hear him but she turned to him immediately with a compassionate expression.

"Now we figure out what the next step is going to be," Dr. Monticello said gently.

Dean closed his eyes for a moment. This can't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. Only a few weeks ago Sam was slamming the motel room door on his way out, heading to the Greyhound station to start his new life as a college student and now he was sitting in some eye doctor's office being told he would never see again.

Dean opened his eyes when he felt Sam grab his sleeve. The younger man's knuckles were white where they curled around the soft fabric.

Dean shook his head a little bit to clear his thoughts.

"It's going to be okay, Sammy," Dean assured his brother, glancing at Dr. Monticello.

The optometrist gave a wavering smile. She rarely had to give bad news in her line of work so when she did, it tore her up.

The expression on the faces of the three Winchesters was breaking her heart. She turned to John, "Why don't I give you some privacy for a moment? Let you sort some things out? I'll be back in ten minutes or so?"

Dean watched his father nod woodenly and the doctor gave a small smile as she walked out of the room.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered quietly and Dean frowned.

"For what?" he almost snapped and grimaced at the anger in his voice. He wasn't angry at his brother and he hoped Sam knew that.

"I n-never should ha-have left," Sam stammered.

"It's not your fault," Dean reassured his brother, "You didn't know this was going to happen."

John remained silent; lost in his own thoughts.

Dad, say something! Dean wanted to shout, knowing that the longer his father stayed quiet, the more damage it would do to Sam's psyche.

Sam lowered his head in shame, "I sho-should have fought harder and I didn't."

"Hey," Dean cooed, "Don't do that."

"I l-let them take my bl-blood and the bone m-marrow and kidney," Sam had tears trailing down his cheeks now. Dean didn't know what to say so he continued to comfort his brother silently.

John seemed to be in his own world and Dean was glad. John and Bobby didn't know that Bates had taken Sam's blood and bone marrow- Dean didn't really think it was necessary to tell them- and he didn't plan on telling them. Those things seemed trivial now anyway compared to Sam's lost sight.

"It's going to be alright," Dean promised, "Dr. Monticello is going to help us."

Sam gulped wetly and nodded; he lifted his arm and clumsily wiped his face with his sleeve.

Dean smiled even though his brother couldn't see it.

"There you go," he said encouragingly, "Things will turn out… they always do eventually."

Sam gave a weak smile and sat back against the exam chair. He closed his eyes, taking comfort in the darkness.

Author's Note:

1. Thanks to nupinoop296, mandancie, judyann, MysteryMadchen, Miuda22, Samstruck, reannablue, cold kagome, L.A.H.H, Lyra152, BranchSuper, KlutzyHanyou, fixusi, Dorianimeyaoilover, babyreaper, doyleshuny, DianaLadris802, Sparkiebunny, SPN Mum, Souless666, DeansSammy, SamDeanLover28 and Guests for reviewing.

2. Thanks to everyone who is following or who has alerted or favourited this story.

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