Chapter Fifteen
Sam gripped his brother's hand tightly, nervously, but Dean didn't mind. He just squeezed Sam's fingers in return.
"Don't worry Sammy," Dean whispered, "Bobby talked to her on the phone and said she was really nice."
Sam nodded but didn't reply. Dean could just imagine how anxious his brother was.
"And besides," the older teen smirked, "Who could be mean to you with a face like that?"
Sam chuckled and managed to elbow Dean in the ribs, sending both brothers into fits of laughter.
Dean looked over to where their father was sitting in one of Bobby's wing-back chairs and John gave him a smile that was more of a grimace. Dean turned back to his sibling.
Dean still hadn't forgiven his Dad quite yet for trying to force him to leave Sam. Or for nearly punching him. Or for causing Sam's accident.
John had been trying to talk to Sam but Dean stayed close to his brother, only ever really leaving his side when he needed to take care of his own personal needs.
Sam didn't remember much about falling off the porch. He knew that Dean and their father had been arguing and he remembered Bobby trying to keep him back but he'd wanted to get to his brother.
Sam didn't know that John had tried to hit his eldest son and Dean wasn't about to divulge that information. Instead, he'd told Sam that he had stepped back, meaning to go back into the house and had knocked Sam over the railing.
Sam had listened to Dean's story but the incredulous look on his face told his older brother he didn't really believe him. Thankfully Sam didn't ask for the real version of events.
Besides being sore and suffering a badly sprained wrist, Sam had come out of the accident virtually unscathed.
Bobby, for his part, hadn't tried to diffuse the tension between father and son. It wasn't his business, really, and something that the two parties needed to work out between themselves. Dean was sure though, that if Sam ended up in the middle of an argument again, he and John would be shown the front door faster than the grizzled hunter could say 'idjits'.
Bobby came into the living room, carrying a tray with a teapot, five cups and a plate of store-bought oatmeal cookies on it.
"You're becoming a regular housewife, aren't you?" Dean chuckled and the hunter shot him a glare.
All four men jumped at the sound of an approaching car.
"Is that her?" Sam asked anxiously.
John stood and peered out the front window, parting the yellowing lace curtain slightly.
"Looks like," he muttered and Dean felt his brother grow tense beside him.
"You'll do great, Sammy," Dean assured his brother. He watched as Bobby walked over to stand with John and waited to meet the therapist.
Bobby opened the front door as soon as he heard a knocking on the other side and smiled.
Dean leaned forward to try and get a good look at the person who was supposed to help his brother.
The first thing Dean noticed about Rayann Muir was that she was tiny; short and small-boned. She had a thin, though not unpleasant face with button-like eyes, a sharp nose and a mouth that was clearly used to smiling. Rayann wore comfortable clothing; jeans and sneakers, a blue t-shirt with a grey sports hoodie over it. Her ash blonde hair was done up in a high ponytail at the back of her head. She couldn't be much older than Dean himself was.
Rayann greeted Bobby and John in a soft yet assertive voice; she reached out to shake their hands while she set a gym bag down on the floor.
"I'm Sam's father," John said and shook Rayann's offered hand, a slightly perplexed expression on his face. Clearly he wasn't expecting the petite, athletically-built young woman when he'd pictured the therapist.
"You must be Mr. Singer," Rayann greeted Bobby, apparently matching his voice to his gruff appearance.
The veteran hunter nodded and guided Rayann into the den. Dean stood up immediately, one hand on Sam's shoulder protectively.
"This is my eldest son, Dean," John gestured and Dean shook Rayann's hand when she approached, "And this is Sam."
Dean watched curiously as Rayann took Sam's hand herself and shook his, smiling when Sam tightened his fingers around hers almost instantly.
"Nice to meet you, Sam," Rayann said, not at all deterred by his milky eyes or his shaved hair.
"You too," Dean's brother replied quietly.
"Why don't you sit down, Miss Muir," John offered and Rayann sat down in one of the wing-back chairs, thanking the hunter.
"I know we spoke on the phone but is there anything else we should tell you?" Bobby asked and poured Rayann a cup of tea.
Dean knew that Bobby had explained Sam's blindness as the result of an accident. The hunter hadn't been very specific with the details while on the phone and Dean hoped that they would stay that way. Bobby had explained to the Winchesters that he couldn't tell the therapist that Sam was blind as a result of a cornea transplant without explain why he'd needed such an operation in the first place. Since Sam was just now learning how to function without his sight, it wouldn't be reasonable to say he'd needed a procedure that was often perform on individuals who were already blind or had very low vision. Dean hoped that Rayann wouldn't get to curious and examine Sam's eyes too closely because she was likely to see the sutures.
Rayann took a sip of tea before answering, "I think you covered just about everything during our conversation, Mr. Singer."
Bobby nodded, "Please, call me Bobby."
The therapist agreed, with a smile.
John cleared his throat and spoke up, "Is there anything we should know or something we can do to help?"
Dean nodded. He would be with Sam every step of the way if that was what it took to get his brother back to his normal, pain-in-the-ass self.
Rayann nodded, her expression turning serious for the first time.
"I'd like to speak to you privately if that's alright."
Dean tensed; he didn't like the thought of his brother being alone, even if he was still close by.
"Whatever you've got to say you can tell it to all-" he began, bristling, but his father interrupted.
"Dean," John said warningly. Dean glowered at his father menacingly, letting John knew he was displeased with him.
"I can stay with Sam while you talk to Rayann," Bobby suggested, "If that's alright with you?"
The therapist nodded. While on the phone Bobby had told Rayann that he was a family friend and the Winchesters were simply staying with him until Sam was well enough- and confident enough- to head back out on their own. Most of Rayann's work would be to prepare Sam to return to the nomadic life he'd been trying to leave only a few weeks ago before that fateful night in Kettering, Ohio.
Although Bobby would be just as happy to see Sam stay with him, he knew that the young man would never agree to it without Dean and John would not let both his sons stop hunting, especially his eldest.
John stood up first; a little too eager in Dean's opinion and led the way as Bobby and then his eldest son followed him out onto the porch.
Dean glanced over his shoulder before the door closed behind him, smiling when he saw Rayann sit down in his vacated spot beside Sam.
John leaned against the repaired portion of the railing and crossed his arms casually over his chest.
"What do you think they're going to talk about?" Dean asked out loud.
"P'robly wants to hear about what's happened to Sam from himself," Bobby grunted, moving to stand beside John.
Dean fidgeted anxiously. He didn't like leaving his brother alone, especially with someone who was practically a stranger.
"Relax, son," Bobby muttered, "She told me over the phone that she don't bite."
Dean didn't even crack a smile.
John turned to his friend, "How much is she charging for this?"
Bobby looked like he wanted to smack the younger man upside the head, "Don't worry about it."
John unfolded his arms and moved so that he faced the older man, "Are you paying?"
Bobby simply shrugged, "You have to save up your money for ammo and rock salt."
"Sam's my son," John said, "My responsibility; you don't have to do that."
"But I was the one who offered to help y'all in the first place," Bobby replied evenly, "An' in my books that don't just mean putting a roof over yer heads."
John blinked, shocked and Dean almost chuckled at the sight of his father struck dumb by his friend's generosity.
John couldn't have known, as Bobby and Sam and Dean did, that the grizzled hunter was like a second father to the Winchester boys, and that he would do anything for them because they were family, whether they were blood or not. John was very possessive, always had been and always would be, and although he considered Bobby a friend, he assumed that the veteran hunter was only that to Sam and Dean as well.
"Uh… well," John muttered, "I…"
"You owe me one, Winchester," Bobby grunted but Dean could see from the smile on his face that the grizzled hunter would never come collecting. He was helping out a friend and that was that.
SPN
Sam couldn't help but be nervous. This was all new to him. He wasn't sure what to expect of Rayann Muir. He hoped she could help him. He'd rarely felt as lost as he had since Dr. Bates had blinded him. He had no idea what he was supposed to do next.
Sam shifted on the couch beside the occupational therapist and grimaced in pain. The bruises on his back he'd gained from his fall from the porch still smarted and the healing scrapes on his shoulder blades stung.
Sam didn't complain about the pain though. From what Bobby and Dean had said, it could have been much worse. Besides, this pain was nothing to what he'd felt after the mad doctor had operated on him.
"Are you alright, Sam?" Rayann asked and startled the young man slightly.
Sam nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Sam," Rayann said in her soft, confident tone, "I wanted to ask you about the past few days. Bobby told me you had your accident very recently and haven't yet had a chance to really adapt to being blind."
Sam looked down, his hands twisting anxiously. He calculated that it had been at least a week- given a day or two- since he'd awoken in the hospital room, unable to see. Sam was now slightly ashamed that in all the time since he'd been brought back to Bobby's he hadn't really moved very far from the sofa on which he now sat with Rayann.
Although Dean insisted he rest and recover from his injuries, his brother's worry wasn't the only thing stopping Sam from his regaining independence. He was scared. He had no idea how to navigate the once familiar terrain of the grizzled hunter's home and when he had tried to do something on his own, he'd gotten hurt.
"Dean's been helping me a lot," Sam answered quietly.
"How?" Rayann asked; her tone curious.
Sam closed his eyes for a moment, not wanting to see the unending whiteness and took a deep breath once darkness bloomed beneath his closed lids.
He told the therapist how Dean stayed by his side, night and day, ready in case he needed anything.
During the first couple of days after he had been rescued, Sam had clung to his brother, afraid of losing Dean again after thinking he'd never see his brother or his father ever again but as the days passed it started to grow slightly embarrassing. Sam was eighteen. He should be able to take care of himself. He shouldn't have to have his brother cut up his food or pick out his clothes or squeeze toothpaste onto his toothbrush for him just because he couldn't see.
Although Sam appreciated how Dean was always there to remind him he was safe after he'd had a nightmare, he wished his brother would sleep in a real bed. Dean should have his own life, not spend it looking after his little brother all the time.
Sam wished that he could just get up, walk into the kitchen and get himself a glass of water or a snack without having to ask… and he probably could but… he was scared. He hated being treated like a little kid who couldn't do anything for himself but he was reluctant to try. He knew he was being stupid but he couldn't help it.
He was afraid of getting hurt and he was afraid of disappointing his father more than he already had.
Rayann's hand touched Sam's and the younger man jumped. Rayann didn't apologize though.
"Bobby told me that before your accident you planned on going to college," she said, "He told me you received a full ride to Stanford."
Sam nodded, "Yeah, I did… before… everything happened."
"Sam, you seem like a very confident, independent young man," she said and Sam chuckled humorlessly.
"It's true," Rayann said, seeming to know exactly what he was thinking, "Believe me when I say that you can become that young man again. I know it sounds cheesy but, it's not going to be like this forever. Sure, it'll take hard work and perseverance but I know you can do it."
Sam bit his lip and blinked his eyes when he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes, "I'm scared."
The therapist squeezed his hand, "That's okay. There's nothing wrong with being scared, it's completely natural to feel that way, but you can't let that get in the way of moving on with your life, you understand? Fear has a way of trapping you and once you let it do that, it's very difficult to break free."
Sam nodded.
"Listen," Rayann continued, "I've been doing this for a while and I've seen almost every situation. You are very lucky, you are."
Sam scoffed. He didn't really feel lucky.
"You have a family who cares about you and who are willing to support you," Rayann said, "Many people don't have that."
Sam sucked in a deep breath. He couldn't imagine going through this alone. Despite the fact that Dean had been hovering over him the past week, Sam wouldn't trade that for anything. At least he knew that his brother cared about him enough to help him. Bobby had opened up his house to them and given the Winchesters an open invitation so that they wouldn't feel as if they were overstaying their welcome. Even John, who hadn't taken the news of Sam's new handicap very well, had hugged his youngest tightly when he'd woken up after his rescue.
"I didn't think about that," Sam confessed, feeling ashamed.
Rayann patted his hand, "You have an amazing support system here. Use it."
"I will."
"Good," the therapist said, "I'm going to talk to your father and brother now. I'll have Bobby come in and sit with you."
Sam nodded. He felt better about Rayann, less nervous. He heard the old couch's springs protest when the therapist stood up and he listened to her footfalls as she moved across the living room towards the front door.
SPN
Dean glanced up when the door opened and Rayann stepped out onto the porch, making room for Bobby to go past her and into the house.
Once the door was closed and only the two Winchesters remained, the therapist turned her button-like eyes to them.
The tiny young woman was smiling so Dean didn't even bother asking her what she had been talking to his brother about.
"So?" John spoke up, "Can you help Sam?"
Rayann chuckled, "Of course I can help Sam. That's no problem. But I do have to ask both of you to do something that will help him in the long-run."
Dean leaned forward eagerly, but was shocked at what Rayann said next.
"I need you to back off," she said in a stern, though not cruel tone, "Especially you, Dean."
Spluttering with indignation, the older sibling, stared at the therapist.
"What do you mean?" he asked, ignoring the slight smirk on his father's face.
"I need you to let Sam do things on his own," Rayann explained, "Even if he has trouble or messes up or has to go back and perform the same task a dozen times over I need you to let him make those mistakes."
"Why?" John asked, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
Rayann turned to look at the father, "From what Sam and Bobby both told me, he used to be very independent before his accident."
John muttered something that to Dean sounded like 'smartass' but he pretended not to hear it. He'd rather not have Rayann know about their dysfunctional family just yet.
"Stepping back and allowing Sam to do things on his own, without assistance will help far more than doing everything for him," Rayann continued.
"I know that right now you want to protect Sam and do the tough stuff for him but it will only harm him if you don't give him a chance to get his hands dirty," the therapist said.
"A lot of the times people think that they are helping their family member but what they are really doing is setting them up for failure. This might not be what you want to hear but it is what you need to hear."
Dean tried to keep calm. He hated it whenever anyone- anyone- told him how to take care of his brother and now that this Rayann Muir, a woman who barely knew them was saying that he shouldn't help Sam, well, that was unacceptable.
But the therapist did have a point. Sam was independent by nature and Dean was sure that sooner or later he'd let it be known that he wouldn't tolerate being babied.
Dean didn't want Sam to be scared of going out and doing things just because he was blind. There were plenty of blind people who were completely independent and mobile and Dean knew that was what Sam truly wanted.
Dean nodded, "I can try. It's just hard, you know."
Rayann smiled softly at him, "This is new for all of you, not just Sam and you, as a family, are going to have to make some changes as to how you do things but that's why I'm here."
John pushed himself off the repaired railing, "Okay, where do we start?"
SPN
Sam stood in front of the couch, one hand gripping the handle of a cane with trepidation and excitement.
Rayann had one hand on his free arm, ready to guide him and show him how to use the cane.
"Are you ready, Sam?" the therapist asked and the young man nodded, "Yeah."
Sam's hold on the cane tightened as Rayann walked forward, bringing him alone at her side.
"Slow," she muttered, "You don't need to rush."
Sam listened to the dull thud the end of the cane made as it hit the hardwood floor. With the cane, Sam would be able to tell if he was coming upon a change in the texture of the ground- from concrete to grass perhaps- and detect obstacles in his path.
The cane would give Sam a great amount of mobility; allow him to walk around the Salvage Yard by himself, if he wished, with practice.
He couldn't help but smile at the thought that he didn't have to be afraid of running into or tripping over the furniture. He wouldn't have to wait for Dean to be his eyes anymore or walk the few feet from the living room to the kitchen with his arms stretched out if his brother wasn't nearby.
"You're doing awesome, Sam," Rayann praised, "Do you think I can let you go now?"
Sam nodded eagerly. The therapist released her hold on Sam and he heard her step back.
"Just keep walking forward, Sam," Rayann called and Sam picked up his pace, excited.
"Slow down, Sammy," Dean called from Sam's right and the younger brother stopped.
He turned his head in the direction of his older sibling's voice and narrowed his eyes. Was he about to hit something? He reached out with the cane, tapping at the invisible area in front of him.
"Keep going Sam," Rayann encouraged, "You're fine."
Sam hesitated though. Now he wasn't so sure. He suddenly had the feeling that he was standing on the edge of a yawning chasm and if he took a step forward he was going to plummet to his death. He didn't move.
"Go on, son," Bobby spoke up, his gruff voice tinged with concern.
Sam hunched his shoulders protectively and closed his eyes. He startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Sammy," Dean's warm breath tickled his ear, "We can stop if you want. You can take a break."
Sam took a deep breath and opened his eyes. He shrugged Dean's hand from his shoulder and stood up straighter.
"I'm alright," he muttered determinedly.
He had to do this. He would do this. Nothing was going to happen to him; he was in Bobby's house for God's sake! Sam stepped forward and let out the breath he'd been holding. He walked until he heard the end of the cane hit the linoleum of the kitchen floor. He continued onward, listening intently to the distinct tap-tap-tap of the cane, aware of his brother's eyes on his back as he walked.
Thunk! Sam paused. He must have just hit the cupboard. Turning around so that he faced what he thought was the kitchen doorway, Sam smiled triumphantly.
He smiled even wider when he heard clapping from inside the living room.
"That was great, Sam!" Rayann's voice praised, her footsteps coming closer as she walked forward.
"You're going to be a pro at this in no time, Sammy," Dean exclaimed from somewhere behind Rayann.
"Are still up for more, Sam?" the therapist asked and the young man nodded eagerly.
SPN
Dean couldn't be happier for his brother. He wasn't at all surprised at how fast Sam was learning to navigate with the cane. Sam had always had an insatiable thirst for knowledge and being taught how to live blind was nothing more than an interesting exercise for him.
Rayann showed Sam how to perform daily personal care that could not wait until she returned for her next visit.
Dean learned alongside Sam, watching every move Rayann made and memorizing everything she said in case he ever needed to recall it in the future.
Bobby and John gave the three younger people space. Bobby would always ask the brothers later about what Rayann had told them so he could get his house ready if he needed to for any Winchester visits in the future. John was so out of his element with this that he just ducked out and let Dean take care of things, like always. He would figure out a different way to support Sam when the time came.
Rayann showed the brothers how a rubber band around a shampoo bottle could distinguish it from others in the shower, how safety pins clipped the tags inside clothing could be used to indicate the colours and prevent dressing from becoming a guessing game. She suggested three different methods Sam could use to brush his teeth. Shaving was something Dean was leery about. Although Rayann insisted that with practice it would become second nature to Sam, he didn't like the thought of his brother wielding a razor he couldn't see on his face and neck.
Dean had already taken to telling Sam exactly where the food on his plate was during meals- peas at 3 o'clock, chicken at 6 o'clock and mashed potatoes at 9 o'clock- but Rayann explained that it would be more beneficial (and less embarrassing) for Sam to learn to cut his own food. The therapist assured the older brother that just like everything else, it would become easier with practice and Sam just had to go slow and not rush. Dean again wasn't too keen on the idea of his blind brother using a sharp implement but he knew Sam need it and agreed, reluctantly to the terms.
"But if you cut off a finger," Dean warned, half-jokingly, "I'm going to put all your food in the blender and you'll have to eat out of a straw."
Rayann left two hours later after a schedule had been decided and Dean found himself sitting on one of the beds in the guest bedroom he and Sam usually shared, helping Sam organize his clothing.
Bobby had found an old mason jar full of safety pins- Karen used them when she sewed- and brought them up to the boys.
The majority of Sam's pants were blue jeans so they didn't need to be categorized; he could tell that they were denim simply by the texture but the t-shirts and flannel shirts needed attention.
"This one's plaid, green and black and grey," Dean told his brother and fished a large safety pin out of the jar.
Sam nodded, "I know I have a grey t-shirt somewhere…"
"Hi boys," John appeared in the doorway, startling even Dean. John could be as silent as a shadow when he wanted to be.
"Dad," Dean muttered and attached the safety pin to the tag inside of the plaid button-up and grabbed the grey t-shirt Sam wanted from his open duffel bag.
He found another large pin in the jar and effectively marked the shirt.
Sam had somehow figured out a confusing system of large safety pins vs. small safety pins and different numbers of pins on clothes for certain colours. Just thinking about it made Dean's head hurt but if Sam understood it than who was he to argue.
John cleared his throat, not liking that he was being ignored. Sam stopped what he was doing, a zip-up sweater in his hands and turned his milky eyes towards the sound.
"Is there something that you wanted?" Dean asked, bristling. Couldn't John see they were busy?
"I think a moth will just about do it," John said vaguely. Dean narrowed his eyes, "Do what?"
"With the therapist," John clarified; he looked into his youngest's sightless eyes.
"You can't make that call!" Dean exclaimed.
"Why not? You're learning quickly, just look at all you did today!" John said and Sam bit his lip.
"So what happens after a month, Dad?" Sam asked. Dean turned to him, "Nothing, Sammy."
"We'll hit the road," John spoke over his eldest, "Continue where we left off."
Dean frowned, "And Sam? What's he going to do? Hang out in the motel room while we go to interview people and hunt down the monsters?"
John shrugged, "You wanna stay here instead?"
Sam didn't move for a long moment, "Can Dean stay too?"
The eldest Winchester shook his head, "I need your brother on hunts. Besides, this Rayann Muir says you need to be more independent. I think some time away from each other would be a good thing."
Dean stood up suddenly, unable to stay seated.
"If that's the way you're calling the shots," Dean growled, "Than I'm staying with Sam. I said it before and I'll say it again: I am not going without Sammy."
John's expression darkened, "I'm trying to help you! Both of you! I'm trying to do what's best for you, Sam! Don't you understand that?"
"How dare you force him to choose like this!" Dean exclaimed, "That's not fair to him!"
John stood up and tried to tower over his eldest.
"I'm not forcing him to do shit, Dean!" John snarled, "He can stay here or he can come with us!"
Dean, recalling what happened during the last argument with his father, abruptly sat back down on the bed and took the sweater from his brother's lax fingers.
"What pin do you want for this one, Sam?"
John, realizing that the fight was over and that he was going to be ignored, tore from the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
Dean leaned forward towards his brother, "C'mon Sammy, talk to me."
Sam dropped his hands and Dean saw tears trail down his brother's face.
Sliding across the bed, Dean settled next to Sam and wrapped his arms tightly around him.
Dean didn't speak for a while. He just let his brother bury his face against his shoulder and cry silently.
"Sam," he mumbled eventually, once his brother's crying had stopped, "I think you should stay here. Continue learning with Rayann. Don't jeopardize your future because Dad's being an asshole, okay? Remember the kid who was going to go to Stanford no matter what Dad said? Be that kid again. For me… for you."
Sam shook his head. He didn't want Dean to leave him. Although he wanted to regain his independence he didn't want to be independent of his big brother. Sam wasn't so sure that the kid who'd once been so willing to turn his back on his family for the chance at a 'normal' life still existed. Yes he'd made a few accomplishments today but he was still a long way from becoming independent. He needed Dean with him. He didn't know what he would do without his brother. Sure he would have Bobby but it just wasn't the same.
"Sam? You listening to me?" Dean asked, unaware of the thoughts flooding his brother's mind.
"Yeah," Sam muttered and pulled back from the hug.
"Dean?" the older brother looked up expectantly.
"I'm kind of tired right now," Sam whispered, "Can we finish this later?"
"Uh, sure," Dean blinked, surprised, "Of course."
Numbly, Dean moved the clothes off the bed and watched as Sam fumbled with the blanket until he'd found the edge and pulled it down.
"You want me to read you a bedtime story?" Dean asked, not really in the mood to joke but unable to help himself.
Sam rolled onto his side, facing away from him and didn't answer.
"Okay," Dean muttered sadly, "I'll be downstairs if you need anything."
Closing the door softly behind himself, Dean walked into the main floor and sat down on the couch, staring at the black TV screen. He ran a hand over his face and sighed.
God help him but he knew that his father was right. Sam needed to stay in a stable environment and continue learning how to take care of himself. Dean knew that Sam would be miserable if he went on the cross-country ride with them. But Sam was also stubborn and he would not change his mind once it was made up.
Give him a month, like Dad said; Dean thought. Maybe Sam will get over this. Dean himself was reluctant to let his brother out of his sight, still terrified that one morning he'll wake up and find Sam missing. It's just the close call, Dean thought. We're still calming down.
Dean only wanted what was best for his brother, always had and always would, and if that meant leaving Sam here with Bobby then so be it. It wasn't like Bobby was some kind of ogre. The man was a good, good friend and oftentimes a better father to them than John was.
Dean knew that his brother would be upset with him for a while but Sam had never been one to hold grudges for long and would forgive him if Dean left with their father.
Let's just see where a month takes us, Dean decided, maybe that Stanford-bound Sam is still in there somewhere, clambering for a taste of civilian life.
Dean closed his eyes and let out a breath that was more of a sigh. He was asleep by the time Bobby poked his head into the living room, unaware of the grizzled hunter draping a blanket over his unconscious frame before casting a long look out into the driveway where the Impala had up until recently rested.
Author's Note:
1. Thanks to Samstruck, L.A.H.H, Dorianimeyaoilover, babyreaper, mandancie, cold kagome, SamDeanLover28, doyleshuny, Winchesterlover, cathernatural.812, Miuda22, MysteryMadchen, VictoireAgathon, DianaLadris802, BranchSuper, SPN Mum, reannablue, judyann, and firecracker189 for reviewing.
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