Chapter Twelve
Dr. Monticello slowly opened the door to her office, a thick bundle of pamphlets in her hand. The Winchesters hadn't moved and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Geoffrey had warned her that the small family might bolt as soon as she gave them her diagnosis (and a chance to run).
Clearing her throat, Dr. Monticello stepped into the room and put on a sympathetic yet confident smile.
"Mr. Winchester? I have some information packets for you," she addressed John but the man made no move to take the offered booklets.
Standing with a scowl, Dean took the packet and glared at his father.
"I think now would be a good time to discuss what you can do for Sam," Dr. Monticello said.
John closed his eyes. He couldn't deal with this right now. Pushing up from his chair, John raked a hand through his head and looked apologetically at the optometrist, "I need some air."
The woman frowned, "I understand this is a shock but we need to talk."
The eldest Winchester shook his head, "I gotta clear my head. You can talk to Dean. He's the one who caters to Sam anyway."
Dr. Monticello watched, stunned, as John opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Turning to the man's sons, she saw Dean's scowl turn into an angry sneer. His eyes narrowed at the office door and the hand not holding onto his brother's wrist, curled into a fist.
Choosing to ignore that last comment, Dr. Monticello grabbed her rolling office chair and pulled it over so that she was sitting right in front of the two young men.
"What have you got for us, Doc?" Dean asked, deciding he could kick his father's ass later; right now he had to focus on what Sam needed, despite what John thought.
"I know how hard it can be to hear such a diagnosis but this isn't the end of the world, you know," Dr. Monticello spoke in her optimistic, confident voice.
Sam nodded and Dean leaned forward, hand still gripping his brother's wrist tightly.
"You have a couple of choices here," Dr. Monticello explained, "You can have an occupational therapist come to your home and they will help teach Sam to function without his sight."
"Okay," Dean said slowly. Although they didn't have a permanent address, Dean thought that Bobby's would be as good a place as any for Sam to learn how to get around without the use of his eyes. Dean knew that the grizzled hunter would have absolutely no qualms about them staying there for a while.
"What exactly would an occupational therapist do?" Sam asked; his voice quiet but Dean smiled at the hint of curiosity in it.
"Their main focus is teaching the newly blind how to function independently. They would show you how to perform daily hygiene and grooming, how to get dressed and sort your clothes, how to work kitchen appliances, things like that," Dr. Monticello answered, looking straight at Sam- and not avoiding his milky gaze, Dean noticed with relief- but spoke to both young men.
"What's the other way we can go?" Dean asked.
"Sam can attend a school or center for the blind," Dr. Monticello said, "They'll teach him many of the same skills as an occupational therapist will but it will give your brother a greater sense of independence."
Dean glanced at Sam and saw his brow furrow slightly.
"Are there any schools close by?" Dean asked. If there was, he'd be driving there every day to check on his brother.
"The South Dakota School for the Blind and Visually Impaired is in Aberdeen," Dr. Monticello answered, her tone hesitant, almost as if she knew what Dean was thinking.
The older brother smiled. From Sioux Falls, Aberdeen was only a little over three hours away.
"The purpose of such facilities is to separate the student from their families and more or less force them to be independent. If you have Sam enrolled at the school, they'll ask that you and your father not to visit for a number of days so that your brother can-" the optometrist explained but Dean interrupted her.
"No," he said curtly.
Sam turned his head in his brother's direction and although he couldn't see him, he knew Dean was angry.
"Dean," Sam said quietly.
"Sam," his brother replied, "We only just got you back. I'm not losing you again."
Dr. Monticello stared at the young men, questions blooming in her mind but she had promised Geoffrey (and the Winchesters) that she wouldn't ask, so she kept silent.
"You won't be losing me!" Sam exclaimed, clearly agitated. Dr. Monticello saw his eyes widen and his chest rise and fall rapidly.
"Okay, okay," Dean murmured, "Calm down, we're not making any decisions right now anyway. We have to talk to Dad still."
Sam crossed his arms over his chest and turned away from his brother's voice.
The optometrist looked apologetically at Dean, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset either of you."
The older boy shook his head, "It's not your fault. It's-"
"Complicated, yeah, I get it," Dr. Monticello finished and Dean nodded to the woman appreciatively.
"So, everything's in here?" Dean asked, raising the packet of brochures and pamphlets with one hand.
"Yes, contact information for the school in Aberdeen and some occupational therapists I know."
Dean thanked the woman and stood, pulling his brother up with him.
"My number's in there as well," Dr. Monticello got up and saw the younger Winchesters to the door.
"Please feel free to give me an update," she finished, sounding a little desperate but it was too late to take her words back now.
Dr. Monticello didn't know what had come over her. She wanted to hear from the Winchesters again. She wanted to know if Sam would adapt and become the independent young man she sensed he was. She hoped that his brother realized that this was new territory for all of them and that some of it; Sam would have to traverse alone. She had seen too many patients with overbearing family members who insisted on doing everything for their blind or visually impaired loved one, only to end up suffocating them. She hoped that the outburst of John's was a result of the shock of the news and wasn't going to be a trend- but she secretly doubted it- and knew from the moment she'd met him that John didn't take failure well.
Dr. Monticello didn't bother following Sam and Dean as they walked down the hallway and into the reception area. Instead, she turned the lights in her office off and sat down in her chair.
SPN
Neither Dean nor Sam spoke as they left the optometrist's. Sam allowed his brother to lead him by the wrist to where their father had parked the Impala.
He wanted to say something, anything but he kept silent. Sam could tell his brother was angry- Dean's grip was uncomfortably tight around his arm- but he didn't ask him to loosen his hold.
He climbed dejectedly into the backseat of the car when Dean opened the door for him and fumbled around for a moment before finding his seatbelt. Sam was surprised when he heard the opposite door open and felt the bench seat dip down slightly when Dean sat down beside him.
Sam turned his head in his brother's direction and gave him a sheepish smile. At least Dean wasn't pissed enough to sit up front with their Dad.
Speaking of… John grunted unintelligibly from the driver's seat before talking to Dean.
"What did the doctor tell you?"
Sam heard Dean scoff, "You'd know if you'd stayed, Dad. Why'd you run out like that?! And I don't 'cater' to Sam, I take care of him! It's more than I can say for you!"
"What can we do?" John ignored his eldest and asked his question again, his tone irritated.
Sam opened his mouth to reply, aware that his brother and father were about to have a (very rare) argument and he wanted to defuse the tension as quickly as possible. He did not want to be stuck in the car while the two of the bickered the entire way back to Bobby's.
I'm such a hypocrite, Sam thought, recalling the numerous road trips where Dean was the one resigned to helpless witness while his younger brother fought tooth and nail against their Dad.
"Dr. Monticello said we could either enroll Sammy in a school for the blind or get a occupational therapist to help out," Dean answered coldly, "There's more information in all these pamphlets."
Sam heard the crinkle of paper as the packet changed hands and John grunted his disinterested in the reading material. It was going to be a long drive back to Sioux Falls.
SPN
Dean saw Bobby standing on the porch, waiting for the small family, as John pulled the Impala into the Salvage Yard's grave driveway.
Exiting the car quickly, Dean walked around the vehicle and opened his brother's door. Sam reached out a hand and Dean grabbed it, ignoring John as the older man climbed out of his own seat and glanced at his sons with an exasperated expression.
"Are we going to stand here for the rest of the day?" Sam's voice startled his brother and Dean sighed; his sibling was standing in front of the open car door, waiting for him to move.
Dean glanced up and he saw his father speaking to Bobby. The veteran hunter was frowning and John shrugged his shoulders, disappearing into the house.
The young man gritted his teeth together and tugged his brother up the driveway, intent on confronting his father.
"Dean!" Sam cried out and flailed as his foot struck the wooden porch step and he almost tripped.
"Shit," Dean muttered and grabbed his brother's shoulder with his free hand, steadying him, "Sorry. You okay?"
"Yeah," Sam replied quietly. Dean didn't look at Bobby as he helped guide his brother up the steps but he could feel the grizzled hunter's eyes on him.
Dejectedly, Dean led his brother into the house. He cringed when the screen door slammed shut behind Bobby and he heard the hunter sigh.
"You want anything to drink?" Dean turned to face Bobby and saw he was holding the package of pamphlets that Dr. Monticello had given Dean- that he had in turn given to his father.
"Beer," Dean answered gratefully.
"Make that two," Sam piped up but before Bobby could go into the kitchen, Dean stopped him.
"No way," Dean spoke to his brother, "The only beer you're drinking is root beer."
Sam scowled and pulled away, "I'm fine, Dean. Jefferson said I was."
"Humour me, okay?" Dean wheedled and Sam sighed, his sightless eyes narrowed.
"Fine. Root beer," he grumbled.
Dean knew that Sam would be alright to drink beer but he knew they had to talk to their father and he didn't want his brother's temper bolstered by the alcohol.
While Bobby went to get them their drinks, Dean once again took hold of his brother's wrist and led him to the couch. John was nowhere to be seen and Dean wasn't sure if that was good or not.
He sat down beside his brother on the couch and thanked Bobby when he handed him his beer. Dean opened Sam's soda for him and set it in his sibling's hand.
Bobby groaned as he sat down on the faded pink wing-back chair his wife had picked out years ago and glanced expectantly at Dean.
After taking a sip of liquid courage, Dean rested his elbows on his thighs and clasped his hands between his knees.
"I guess Dad told you the news," he began, not even daring to look at the older man.
"Ayuh," Bobby answered, "John told me. Doc can't do jack squat for Sam's eyes."
Dean felt his brother tense beside him but he ignored it.
"Did he tell you that Dr. Monticello had more to say on that?" Dean knew Bobby had seen the pamphlets but he felt the need to defend the optometrist.
Bobby leaned back and took a swig of his own beer, "Nope."
"Of course," Dean answered.
Bobby said nothing. John always tended to look on the darker side of life, always had and probably always would.
Dean took a deep breath in through his nose, "Even though they can't fix Sammy's eyes, Dr. Monticello said that doesn't mean he can't have a good life."
Bobby nodded even though he knew this already. There were plenty of blind people who lived perfectly happy, normal lives.
"But Sam needs to learn how to live first," Dean continued quietly.
"An' how're y'all going to do that?" Bobby asked, taking another drink of beer.
Dean sat back against the couch cushions and wiped a hand over his face.
"We can get an occupational therapist to come and help Sam," Dean explained, "Or Sam can go to a school for the blind for a while."
Bobby could tell from the younger man's tone that the second option did not please him at all and he didn't really blame Dean, the boy had only just got his brother back after weeks of worrying and fearing that he'd never see his sibling again.
Instead of commenting, Bobby addressed the youngest Winchester.
"Yer mighty quiet over there, what do you feel about all this?"
The young man ducked his head and shrugged, "I don't know."
Bobby scoffed, "Now I know that ain't true! You always have an opinion and some thought bouncing around in that melon of yours. 'Sides, this all boils down to what you want to do, never mind yer brother or Daddy."
Dean waited nervously for his brother's answer. Sam couldn't possibly want to go away to some school for blind people, could he? He'd just spent the last few weeks in the company of strangers and now he might want to do that again? No, Dean didn't believe it.
Sam chewed on his lip as he thought.
"I just want to be independent again," he whispered and Dean sighed with relief.
"You will be, son," Bobby said, "But that means we gotta make some decisions that can't wait."
Dean frowned. Why was Sam so reserved, quiet? Sam and Bobby should have their heads together by now, planning out every minute detail of his rehabilitation.
"Are you feeling okay, Sammy?" Dean asked and placed a hand on his brother's brow.
"I'm kind of tired," the younger boy admitted somewhat sheepishly.
"Alright, why don't you take a little nap and I'll talk to Dad," Dean suggested in an airy voice and his brother nodded.
Standing up from the couch, Dean watched as Sam laid down, his back to the rest of the living room and his nose almost touching the cushions.
Taking up his beer bottle, Dean grabbed the root beer can and sighed when he found it full.
Bobby beckoned him into the kitchen and the younger man followed after setting the can of soda back down on the coffee table.
"Where's Dad?" Dean asked quietly as he sat down at the kitchen table.
"Out back somewhere," Bobby answered vaguely, "You want another beer?"
"Nah," Dean muttered and rested his chin on the heel of his hand.
Bobby said nothing as he watched John's eldest stare out into space, a small frown on his handsome face.
SPN
John stalked back inside by late afternoon and Bobby accosted him at the back door.
"Yer talking to yer sons, now."
The younger man didn't look happy about it but he didn't argue but followed Bobby into the living room.
Sam and Dean were sitting on the couch again, Dr. Monticello's pamphlets strewn out on the coffee table, waiting expectantly.
Bobby sat back down in his pink chair while John sat down in the matching blue one.
"Alright boys," Bobby encouraged, "Go on."
Dean told his father about the options Dr. Monticello had given Sam. John's face remained passive, emotionless, as his eldest spoke but he reacted once the boy was finished.
Standing, John ran his hands through his hair, "Both of those cost money; money I don't have."
Dean and Sam seemed to sag. Bobby glowered at their father.
"If you need cash, I have no problem paying for a school or a therapist," Bobby said but John shook his head.
"No, I can't let you do that," John argued, "This is our problem."
"Dad," Dean spoke up, "We don't have an option here. Sam needs help."
John's expression turned angry, "We wouldn't need any of this crap if Sam wasn't blind!"
Bobby saw the youngest Winchester flinch at the accusation in his father's words.
"This isn't Sam's fault!" Dean rose from the couch and glared at his Dad from across the coffee table, "There was nothing he could do! You know that!"
John snorted in derision, "He could have listened to me when I told him 'no.' He could have obeyed me and stayed with us!"
Dean snarled, "Oh, so Sam meant to get kidnapped?! He meant to have some asshole cut his kidney out and blind him!"
Bobby saw Sam's hand reach up and tug on his brother's shirt but Dean ignored him.
"John," the grizzled hunter said but he might as well have been invisible for all the attention the Winchesters paid him.
"You think Sam wanted to be trapped in some small cell, waiting to be poked and prodded day after day?" Dean continued, growling more than speaking.
"He shouldn't have left! It was dangerous! He knew it was dangerous and still he left!" John exclaimed.
The youngest Winchester shrank into himself, arms wrapped around his middle and his milky eyes closed as thought that would help shut out the enraged voices of his family.
"You let Sam go! You didn't so much as offer to drive him to the fucking bus station!" Dean looked ready to leap over the coffee table and strangle his father.
"I didn't see you jumping up to do it!" John replied and Bobby stepped in.
"SHUT UP! BOTH OF Y'ALL!" the two eldest Winchesters stared at the grizzled hunter, never having heard him raise his voice quite like that before.
"Sam may be blind ya idjits but he ain't deaf," he said in a quieter tone and Dean immediately blanched.
Bobby made a grab for his friend's shirt but John moved too quickly and stepped out of his reach.
"I'm going out," John muttered, "Do whatever you want."
"Balls," Bobby swore as the front door slammed shut. He glanced over at the boys and saw that Sam had tears leaking out from his closed eyes. Dean sat beside him; one arm around his shoulders and the other brushing Sam's long bangs back from his face.
Dean turned his sad gaze on Bobby.
"What's wrong with him?" he asked, sounding lost, "He didn't act like this when Sammy was missing but now…"
Bobby sighed, "He's scared and he's feeling guilty."
Dean's expression turned incredulous, "Yeah, he really seemed wracked with guilt."
Bobby shook his head, "It hurts John to know he failed Sam so pointing the finger at anyone but himself makes it easier to take."
Dean stared at the old hunter for a moment, "Thanks for that analysis, Freud."
Bobby chuckled humorlessly, "It's always easier to pin the blame on someone else. No one ever wants to admit they made a mistake."
Dean ducked his head and glanced at his brother.
"Dad didn't mean it," Bobby heard him whisper.
The veteran hunter hoped he was right and John was just trying to cope with his emotions, trying to deal with the knowledge that his youngest was blind and would never recover his sight. Giving the boys some privacy, Bobby walked into the kitchen and began boiling water for tea.
Author's Note:
1. Thanks to SamDeanLover28, doyleshuny, Jeanny, judyann, MysteryMadchen, mandancie, reannablue, Sparkiebunny, Miuda22, cold kagome, Dorianimeyaoilover, DianaLadris802, L.A.H.H, BranchSuper, SPN Mum, babyreaper and Guest for reviewing.
2. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited or is following this fanfic.
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