Chapter Thirteen
Sam struggled in vain against the straps holding him down to the operating table. His heart was pounding frantically in his chest and the bright light above his head caused sweat to bead on his brow.
Bates stood over him, silhouetted by the harsh glare of the lamp so the young man could not see his face.
"Please," Sam whimpered, "No more… let me go… please."
The doctor paid him no attention, instead he turned to one of the nurses- Sam startled when he saw her because her face was completely devoid of features; no mouth or nose or eyes- and took a scalpel from the tray she held up.
"No… not again," Sam whispered desperately, his eyes wide with terror.
With the doctor's face in shadows, the young man could not make out his expression but Sam was sure Bates was smiling.
The youngest Winchester began to panic when the doctor lowered the razor-sharp blade towards him, "No! No! Please don't! Please let me go! Don't hurt me any-"
Sam's protests turned into a scream of agony when the scalpel cut into him, the blade sinking into the flesh just beneath his sternum.
Hot blood leaked from the wound as Bates continued cutting. Tears flowed freely from Sam's eyes and onto the cold metal table.
"Nuh-No," Sam gasped weakly, "Ple-Please."
Bates ignored the young man. Setting the scalpel back on the tray the faceless nurse offered him and picked up an instrument that looked like a pipe wrench.
Sam writhed against the straps holding him down as his ribs cracked, the bones splintered and jagged.
The young man stared wide-eyed at the blood-smeared tool as Bates handed it to the nurse and lowered his gloved hands towards the incision he had made.
"You don't need this," the doctor said and Sam cried out in agony as something was ripped from his body.
A second faceless nurse appeared on Sam's other side, carrying a cooler used for transporting donated organs and disappeared after taking what the doctor had removed.
A kidney, Sam thought, it's a kidney… my kidney.
Bates lifted his head and stared at the young man for a long moment. Sam stared back, wondering if the doctor was going to take everything this time.
Sam gasped when Bates raised his hand and adjusted the overhead light, angling it so that the boy could see his face. It wasn't Bates any more. It was John.
Sam's father grinned insanely at his son and the young man renewed his struggles, blood and gore staining the floor and the table.
"Dad! No! You can't be… you can't be…" Sam cried, "Help me! Please!"
John continued to smile down at Sam, "You wanted to leave. You didn't listen to me."
"Let m-me go," Sam whimpered.
His father's brow furrowed for a second as though he was actually concerned for his son but then he raised one gloved hand and cupped Sam's cheek, "We could never see eye-to-eye, could we?"
Sam cringed at the feeling of warm blood on the side of his face, smeared from the glove, "Dad… please."
"I'm sorry, son," John said sadly, "But you should have stayed."
Sam bucked against the straps, crying out in panic when his father once again took up the scalpel, the blade now held directly at his son's right eye and moving steadily closer…
Sam awoke with a strangled gasp. He flailed against the blanket twisted around his body and let out a choked sob of fear and hopelessness.
"Sammy!" A voice called out and Sam felt hands grab his shoulders and press him down.
The young man punched out blindly with his fists, one hand connecting with the jaw of his captor.
"Damn it! Calm down!" the voice snarled, "It's me!"
Dean. It was Dean. Not Bates. Bates was gone. The mad doctor couldn't get him.
"D'n?" Sam whimpered and felt his brother pull him up into a sitting position and wrap his arms around him.
"Hey," Dean mumbled quietly, "It's alright. You're alright."
Sam felt the tension leave his body and he leaned gratefully into his brother, his head resting against Dean's shoulder.
"I'm s-sorry," Sam mumbled, his thrashing must have woken his sibling up.
"You've got nothing to be sorry for, okay?" Dean told him, "Besides, I was awake anyway."
"Is Dad back yet?" Sam asked quietly. He felt Dean shake his head.
John hadn't returned from his fight with Dean and it was the middle of the night now.
"What are we going to do?" Sam wondered out loud.
Dean heaved a sigh, "We're not waiting for him. Bobby said he'd help out if we needed it and we can't keep putting this off. You need help."
Sam lowered his head. This was his fault. If he had never left for college like John had said, they wouldn't be in this position. Bobby shouldn't have to use his hard-earned money to pay for therapy for Sam; the youngest Winchester was reluctant to ask that of the veteran hunter. It wasn't fair to Bobby, it wasn't his responsibility.
"Hey," Dean's voice brought Sam from his thoughts, "Bobby wants to do this for us, Sam. He wants to help you."
"But Dad-" Sam began but Dean cut him off.
"Screw Dad! He can be an asshole if he wants to be but that doesn't mean he gets to hurt you."
Sam bit back a reply. He deserved his father's anger. He had been selfish. He hadn't been thinking about anyone but himself when he'd left to go to school. He should have known he'd never get the normal life he'd always dreamed of.
"Bobby's gonna call around tomorrow morning, see if he can get an occupational therapist to come over," Dean said in a confident voice. When John had stormed out of Bobby's house after his fight with Dean, the brothers and veteran hunter had decided- tentatively- to first try and contact an occupational therapist and then later- especially if he or she suggested it- they would consider enrolling Sam in the school for the blind in Aberdeen.
Sam didn't answer.
"Hey? You wanna stay on Bobby's couch for the rest of your life?" Dean asked teasingly and Sam smiled a little.
"I guess not," he mumbled.
"That's the spirit," Dean joked and unwrapped his arms from around his brother.
Sam leaned back against the couch cushions.
"You need anything? A glass of water?" Dean asked, concerned.
Sam shook his head, "I'm okay. I think I'm going to try and get some more sleep."
"Good idea," Dean answered and Sam listened as his brother got up from the couch and moved over to the chair he'd been sleeping on. The younger Winchester waited until his brother was settled before curling up on the couch, not bothering to pull the blanket back over himself and closed his eyes, seeing his father's maniacal smile against the darkness.
SPN
Dean watched his brother chew slowly on a piece of toast the next morning during breakfast. Bobby had offered Sam some scrambled eggs and bacon but the youngest Winchester had declined, saying that toast was fine.
Dean didn't have much of an appetite either. But he managed to eat everything on his plate.
Bobby pushed himself up from the table with a slight groan.
"I'm gonna go call some of those contacts Dr. Monticello gave ya," he told the brothers, "See what we can dig up."
"Sounds good," Dean answered, taking a sip of his coffee.
Sam didn't reply, he just continued to munch away on his toast.
Dean watched as Bobby shuffled out to the den and sat behind his Tyrannosaurus-sized desk and picked up the handset of the phone sitting there. After John had walked out, Bobby had gathered all the pamphlets and put them in one of the desk's drawers.
Turning his attention back to his brother, Dean sighed.
"You sure you don't want any bacon?" he asked for the tenth time since Bobby had made the stuff.
Sam shook his head.
"How can you refuse bacon? Heathen!" Dean joked, trying to get his brother to smile but Sam didn't even smirk.
"Everything's going to work out, Sammy," Dean said quietly.
"Sure, Dean," Sam mumbled.
"You finished?" Dean asked and his brother nodded. Dean grabbed the plates and set them by the sink. Sam stood up from the table but waited for his brother. Dean immediately took hold of his sibling's elbow and led him into the living room.
"Wanna sit outside for a little bit?" the older sibling suggested, wanting to give Bobby some privacy while he talked on the phone.
Sam shrugged and Dean continued on to the front door. Once they were on the porch, Dean led his brother over to one of the two wicker chairs sitting against the side of the house.
Sam sat down heavily with a tired sigh.
"How are you feeling?" Dean asked, recalling Sam's bad dream the night before.
His younger brother shrugged one shoulder and raised a hand as if to rake his fingers through his hair.
Sam lowered his hand slowly and clutched at his knee instead.
Dean frowned. He really wanted to say something comforting but he wasn't sure what he could do to make this better.
The older brother startled when he heard Sam give a choked sob, as if he were trying to be quiet, and saw his sibling holding his face in his hands.
"Sam," Dean leaned forward and put a hand on his brother's leg, "Sammy, hey, stop that. C'mon. We're gonna get you help."
Sam just shook his head and moved his leg out from underneath his sibling's hand.
"Sam," Dean tried again, his voice firmer, his tone more commanding this time but his brother still did not respond.
Dean let his brother cry for a little while longer before sighing. Standing, he moved so that he was crouched in front of Sam.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, keeping his tone neutral, "Is it that fight with Dad? 'Cause he was an ass to say those things. You couldn't have known what was going to happen."
"Are you going to leave me?" Sam asked; his voice barely a whisper, sounding scared and lost.
"Leave you? What? No, of course not. Why would I leave you?" Dean asked, flabbergasted by the question.
"Dad's gone," Sam answered simply. Sure, John and Sam didn't always get along- they fought more often than not- but that didn't mean that they didn't love each other and having his father walk out made his youngest feel rejected.
"Dad's an idiot," Dean snarled, "Besides, he'll come back; he always does, right?"
Sam nodded. If John was good at one other thing besides hunting it was coming back to his sons, always.
"Look, I know it seems like Dad's thrown in the towel but trust me, he hasn't," Dean assured Sam, "He just needs some time to cool off and think things over. Remember when you were nine and wanted to join the softball team in that one town we were at… somewhere in New York State-"
"Poughkeepsie," Sam answered automatically and Dean smiled.
"Yeah, anyway, you asked and Dad flipped; wanted to know why you were more interested in sports than hunting. Remember when he left and didn't come back until late the next day and said that you could play as long as the case kept us there?" Dean continued.
Although the situation wasn't quite the same, Dean hoped Sam would realize that John would eventually return and- he hoped- have sorted his shit out.
Sam nodded and wiped at his milky eyes. He knew he shouldn't be crying like this but he supposed he got a free chick-flick pass for a while, at least until they had something in the works to help him.
Dean stood and squeezed his brother's shoulder comfortingly. Normally, he'd pick on Sam for sobbing like a little girl but all he had to do was think about how close he had come to losing him and all thoughts of teasing the younger man immediately vanished.
SPN
John clenched the Impala's steering wheel tight enough to make his fingers hurt.
None of this would have happened if Sam hadn't been so Goddamn stubborn. Sam wouldn't be blind now if he had just obeyed his father's order.
John refused to think about the fact that he could have seen Sam to the college himself like Dean had said.
Oh no, they weren't pinning the blame on him. Sam was eighteen. An adult and he could have asked for a ride but he had just stormed out of the motel room without a backwards glance.
Now Sam was blind and couldn't do what either of them wanted; no higher education and no hunting.
John felt a mean sense of satisfaction that at least Sam wouldn't be running away from his family anytime soon.
The eldest Winchester didn't know what to do. He and Dean could still hunt but John knew that his oldest boy wouldn't leave Sam behind and the youngest would only be a burden to them if they took him on the road.
John cursed his youngest boy for his stupidity and pulled into the parking lot of a local bar. It was still fairly early and the tavern was nearly deserted but John didn't care. He needed a drink.
Killing the Impala's engine, John stepped into the dimly lit pub and made his way towards the back where he would be left alone to mull over his son's mistakes in peace.
A young waitress wandered over to the booth almost as soon as John sat down.
"What can I get you?" she asked. She looked to be about Sam's age, with long reddish hair and wide green eyes. John could see a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks.
"Just a beer," he answered gruffly, making it known that he was not in the mood for conversation.
"Coming right up," the waitress replied in a tone that told John she was used to surely booze-hounds and turned her back to him as she went to the bar.
John closed his eyes for a long moment and just listened to the sounds around him- the low music, murmurs of conversation from across the room, the clink of bottles and shot glasses as they were moved about and cleaned- before opening them again, relieved at the sight of the waitress as she returned with his beer.
W
John scattered a few bill on the table and stood. It was late but he didn't want to go back to Bobby's, he didn't want to face his sons just yet. He didn't want to see Dean's angry, disgusted expression or Sam's wan features and milky eyes.
The Impala's door creaked when he opened it and slid into the driver's seat. Turning the key in the ignition, John reached out and closed the door with a slam.
Pulling out of the parking lot, John cruised around the town of Sioux Falls until he found a small motel on the outskirts. He decided he could stay there for the night.
The older woman behind the counter didn't look twice at John when he stepped into the Office- Sioux Falls wasn't a large city and mostly saw people passing through- and went back to the scarf she was knitting.
"I'd like a room for the night," John said and the woman nodded, setting her knitting aside.
With arthritic slowness, the woman stood up and went to the row of key-fobs on the wall behind her chair and plucked the one for room 5. She leaned heavily against the desk when she turned around to face John. The father took the key from the woman's gnarled hand and gave her the money she asked for. He didn't say anything more than he had to; he wasn't really in the mood to be friendly, even to a harmless old woman.
John left the Office and walked down the sidewalk towards his car. The motel parking lot was busier than the bar had been. Five cars were positioned in front of their respective owners' rooms. He knew that by morning most of the vehicles would be gone, their owners heading towards their intended destinations.
John sighed. He wished he could be like one of those civilians already content in their motel rooms; where they didn't have to wake up the next morning and face his reality. John wished he could just get into the Impala and drive away, put Sioux Falls in his rearview mirror and forget all his problems.
He supposed he could do that but something stopped him. He didn't know what exactly. His sons were adults now and certainly didn't need him around- besides, they had Bobby- but he knew that Dean would never forgive him if he left. If it was Sam it would have been different, John's youngest had made it clear long ago exactly how he felt about his father and it pissed the eldest Winchester off to no end. But Dean, he had always looked up to his father, had emulated him even before the night their lives had changed forever and John couldn't do that to his boy, just disappear.
Although John wouldn't leave for Dean, that didn't mean he wouldn't keep a low profile for a while; even if it was only for a night.
Driving around to his room, John wondered what his sons were doing at that moment, what Bobby was doing.
Were they talking about him? Were they arguing? Were they researching that school in Aberdeen?
Unlocking the motel room door, John sighed and wiped a hand over his face. He knew he should be there, that he was expected to be there but he just couldn't deal with that shit right now.
The room was small and old but relatively clean; John saw but barely noticed. He shrugged off his jacket and sat down at the tiny wooden table in the corner, glancing at the white, business card-sized piece of paper that informed him that 'Ellie' had prepared the room.
John blinked and yawned, unusually tired. Maybe it was all the stress of the day finally getting to him.
John decided he should get some shut-eye; at least he wouldn't have to think about his youngest anymore, when his cell phone vibrated in his jacket pocket.
At first he ignored it, thinking that it was Dean and hoped that his son could take the hint and leave him alone but ten seconds after the vibrations stopped, they started up again, sounding almost urgent.
Grumbling, the eldest Winchester grabbed the phone from his pocket and answered the call before it could go to voicemail.
"Yeah?" he snapped, but it wasn't Dean's voice who replied.
"Is everything alright John?" Pastor Jim Murphy's voice startled the father and for a moment he didn't answer.
"Uh… Jim," John managed, "What's up? Haven't heard from you in ages."
"Caleb and Josh told me what happened to Sam," the Pastor explained, "I saw the raid on the hospital on the news."
"Yeah," John mumbled, "So… uh, why're you calling?"
Jim sighed loudly enough for the eldest Winchester to hear and John wished he'd just ignored his phone.
"They haven't heard from you and they were worried," Jim told his friend, "Said they made you promise to keep them posted."
"Shit," John swore; he'd completely forgotten about that.
"I also received a rather angry phone call from Ellen Harvelle," John could hear the smirk in the Pastor's voice, "and she so kindly informed me that if you don't bring Sam by the Roadhouse soon, she's going to find you and fill your ass with buckshot."
John ground his teeth together. Why couldn't they leave him and his family alone? Sure, he'd made a promise to his friends but he was always making empty promises. In the life they led, letdowns were expected.
"I don't see Blacker or Josh calling me up!" John growled, "And what does Ellen know? She's doesn't even know Sam! Why does she care?"
There was a pause on the other end before Jim spoke.
"John, those men and that woman are your friends," he said softly, "They care about you and your boys; they just want to know if everything is alright. From what Caleb told me, Sam was in a bad way when you reached him."
John sagged. He didn't mean to snap at Jim, he hadn't meant to ignore his friends- Lord knew he had so few of them already- but the stress of the past days was really getting to him.
"No," John answered, "No, not everything is okay."
"John? What happened? Is Sam alright?" Jim's voice sounded worried now and it made the father feel even worse.
"Sam's blind!" John nearly shouted and silence followed. Jim made no reply and John couldn't say anything else.
Sam was useless now. He couldn't hunt if he couldn't see what he was supposed to be fighting and he couldn't research if he couldn't read.
"I'm so sorry," Jim said, "I didn't know."
John grunted an unintelligible reply.
"I guess you'd have to find out sometime," the father said more clearly.
"Is there anything I can do?" Jim wondered.
John shook his head, "No, just let Caleb and Josh know… Ellen too, if you see her."
"Alright John, I will," the Pastor promised, "I'll keep this as quiet as I can."
"Thanks," the father said and ended the call.
He wondered how long it would take before every hunter in the States knew what had happened to his son. Although John trusted Jim to only speak to his friends, Joshua or Caleb might slip, Ellen might mention something innocuous to a customer, and then everyone in the hunting community would know about the blind Winchester boy.
John knew that most hunters would gossip among themselves and keep their noses out of his business but there were assholes everywhere and he knew that soon enough someone was bound to come sniffing around.
Even though Sam hadn't been affected by the supernatural, it wasn't like he'd been turned by a vamp or werewolf, there were those among hunters that would see John's youngest as a liability to his father and any partners he took cases with. John knew that Sam's new state made his job all the more dangerous, he didn't deny that, but his business was his own and he would tell off any hunter who tried to tell him what to do.
John set his phone on the table and turned out the room's overhead light. In the dark he made his way over to one of the beds and laid down without taking off his shoes or clothes.
What was he going to do with Sam?
W
John climbed out of bed early the next morning and shuffled over to his phone, checking for any unread messages out of habit more than from interest.
Jim must have worked fast; there were texts from Caleb and voicemails from both Joshua and Ellen.
Ignoring them, John stared down at his wrinkled shirt and ran a hand through his mussed hair. Sighing, John left the motel room and walked the same path as he had the night before to the Office.
The woman at the counter looked like a younger version of the elderly lady who had served John the night before. She took his key-fob without a word and turned away from him.
Getting into the Impala, John exited the parking lot and headed towards Bobby's Salvage Yard.
The drive was short and didn't give John enough time to sort out what he was going to say when he arrived. He shrugged; he guessed it didn't really matter because if the fight the day before had told him anything, Dean was going to be doing most of the talking.
John drove up the gravel path that led to Bobby's ramshackle house at a crawl. He didn't know if his sons or friend would be awake yet and he didn't want to startle them if they were still asleep.
The father frowned when he caught sight of the homestead and saw Sam and Dean sitting in wicker chairs on the front porch.
Author's Note:
1. Sorry for not updating on my usual day. I am writing the story chapter-by-chapter now and I might not be able to post as regularly as often now. So, if I do not post one week, don't panic. I have not abandoned this story or anything like that, but I have a number of stories that I am writing right now and I might not be able to always post weekly. Thanks for understanding.
2. Thanks to BranchSuper, mandancie, babyreaper, SPN Mum, judyann, SamDeanLover28, Dorianimeyaoilover, reannablue, doyleshuny, MysteryMadchen, Jeanny, cold kagome, Samstruck, L.A.H.H, cathernatural.812, Miuda22 and Guest for reviewing.
3. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited, or followed.
4. Please review!