Chapter Seventeen

Rayann couldn't help but be surprised at Sam's progress. He could now navigate the entire house using the cane, as though there had been months in between her visits instead of only days.

She could clearly see the confidence the achievement had given the young man. He sat up a little straighter against the couch, he smiled and if it weren't for the milky tint to his eyes, she wouldn't have known he was blind.

"I think you're going to really like what I have for you today, Sam," Rayann said and began rummaging through the gym bag she had brought.

Sam leaned forward eagerly and Dean chuckled to himself, happy to see his brother so enthusiastic.

"Bobby told me you're an avid reader so I thought we could start having you learn Braille," Rayann explained as she pulled out a sheet of thick, cream-coloured paper with a series of raised dots on it.

"This has all of the letters of the alphabet on it, and numbers," she said, handing the paper to Sam.

Sam had seen Braille before- on the buttons in elevators, beside the numbers to motel rooms they stayed at- and had always been fascinated by the idea that something so simple as raised dots could be read just like any printed words.

"I wrote down the letters and numbers underneath the Braille so Dean or Bobby or your Dad will be able to tell you what they are," Rayann told the three gathered hunters. Sam held back a cringe. John wasn't going to touch this stuff with a ten-foot pole.

"I also have these for you," Rayann continued; Dean taking the paper from his brother and running his fingers over the dots experimentally.

"I know these are children's books but they will help you when you're learning to read," the therapist pulled out a small stack of books that, to Dean, looked just like a dozen of those creamy-white papers with Braille bound together.

Dean thought that kid's books were meant to be eye-catching and colourful but then he guessed it didn't matter if the books had pictures or not if the people reading them couldn't see them.

"You going to read me bedtime stories, Sammy?" Dean asked jokingly and his brother scowled good-naturedly.

"The last thing I have is for you, Bobby."

The grizzled looked surprised but went along with it. Rayann pulled a label-maker from her bag.

"This prints off Braille labels," she explained, "What I want you to do, is type in a word, let's say 'table', print it off and stick the label to the object. This will help Sam associate objects with their names in Braille."

Sam heard the gentle clacking of keys as Rayann typed in 'table' and the muted whirr as a sticker was printed.

"Don't worry, they come off real easy," the therapist said quietly with more than a little amusement in her voice.

Sam could almost imagine what Bobby must be thinking, having everything in his house covered in Braille stickers.

"Thanks Rayann," Sam said, "This is great."

Sam meant it; if he could read, then he could do research and if he could do that, then there was no way his father could tell him he had to stay at Bobby's when the month ended.

"I know this visit was kind of short," Rayann said, "But a lot of these things you have to do on your own. But Bobby has my number in case you need to call me for anything, alright?"

Sam nodded.

"I want you to be able to read at least one of those books by the time I come again," Rayann told Sam; she knew it was a tall order but she was certain that the young man would be able to read one, if not all of the books by her next visit. Sam was already making leaps and bounds and she was sure he would continue.

"Okay," Sam said determinedly, up to the challenge.

Rayann chuckled and said her goodbyes. Sam barely noticed as she left. He had the paper with the Braille alphabet and numbers sitting on the coffee table in front of him, concentration clear on his features as his fingers touched the raised dots and tried to commit their meaning to memory.

Dean had taken the label maker from where Bobby had left it on the seat of the wing-back chair he'd been occupying and was printing out sticker after sticker enthusiastically.

SPN

John Winchester stared blankly at the label on his beer bottle. He was getting anxious to leave Sioux Falls.

Never one to stay in one place for too long if he could help it, John couldn't wait for the month to be up so he and Dean could continue the hunt.

If Sam hadn't left to go off and follow some ridiculous- and selfish- dream of getting a college education, they wouldn't be in this mess. If Sam and only listened to John, he'd be alright now.

John felt bad about what had happened to his youngest boy but he also blamed Sam for it. Since the young man was now blind, the rest of his family had to pay for his mistake.

John shook his head and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. He just didn't understand why Sam even wanted to go to college in the first place. John had gone into the military directly after he'd graduated from high school and he got on just fine. Dean hadn't even graduated and he was no worse for it.

Why would Sam want to leave the hunting life anyway? Why would he want to stop saving people? Why wouldn't he be driven to get a piece of revenge on the monster that had killed his mother?

John gulped down the last of his beer and leaned back in the booth he was sitting in.

He hoped that when this month was over, Dean would be more willing to come with him. Although John could and would hunt by himself, he wanted his eldest son with him. Sam could take care of himself. Bobby's house was protected and the grizzled hunter would look after Sam if need be.

Pulling his wallet out, John set some bills on the table and stood. He glanced at his watch and realized he'd missed Rayann Muir's visit.

Oh well, Dean would fill him in when he returned.

The eldest Winchester wound his way through the bar and outside into the bright sunlight. Squinting his eyes against the glare, John walked across the gravel parking lot to where the Impala was waiting.

SPN

Sam angrily shoved the book away from himself and heard it hit the floor with a flutter of pages.

"I can't do it!" He growled, frustrated, and moved to stand only to be stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Let me go, Dean!" he demanded, struggling to pull his arm from his brother's grasp.

"Sit down," the young man ordered sternly.

"No! This… I can't do it… I'm not getting it…" Sam protested and raised his hand to try and pry his brother's unyielding hand away.

In a softer, gentler tone, Dean spoke again, "You will get it, Sammy. You just have to be patient, okay?"

Sam felt his brother give his arm a squeeze and he sighed, "M'sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Dean told him, "Just calm down and try again. I'll even get that alphabet page again if you need it."

Sam sat and Dean let him go. He wiped at his eyes and blinked, embarrassed now.

He listened to Dean's chair slide across the linoleum floor as his brother reached down to pick up the book.

"How're you feeling, Sammy? Do you want to take a break for a little while?" Dean asked seriously.

Sam shrugged. He wasn't going to get this before Rayann returned. He was going to let her down.

He curled his hands into fists and rested them against his legs. He knew that he couldn't be expected to know everything in such a short time but Sam could barely manage to read one sentence before he tripped up. Oh, he'd be fine for the first two or three words and then it seemed as though the Braille dots had a mind of their own and jumbled up on purpose. This wasn't fair!

"Sam, if you think Rayann's going to be mad at you if you can't read some dumb kid's book for her, than you're not as smart as you think you are," Dean's voice said.

"But Dean-" Sam tried to argue, knowing he sounded childish but was unable to help himself.

"No buts," his brother replied, "Trust me, I think it takes a lot to get someone like Rayann really pissed. Besides, if she does, you can just melt her heart with those 'puppy eyes' of yours."

Sam smiled slightly.

"This is for you, Sam," Dean continued, more serious, "Not Rayann. If you need to take time learning Braille, take all the time you need. No one's going to be upset with you about that."

Sam nodded. Dean was right. The world wasn't going to end if he couldn't read Maurice Sendak's 'Where the Wild Things Are' in Braille on Rayann's next visit. They would just have to set the goal for another day.

"Let me try it again, Dean," Sam said, reaching out for the book, "Once more."

W

Sam lay on his back in bed, listening to his brother's breathing. It was late at night and he knew he should be asleep but he couldn't. He was afraid of having another nightmare where his father replaced Dr. Bates. He was afraid to see John staring down at him, a bloody scalpel in his hand.

Sitting up, the blankets pooled around his waist, Sam rubbed his eyes, trying not to think too much about his own Dad carving him up so mercilessly.

John hadn't been at all interested in the Braille books Rayann had brought with her. Just as Sam had known he would. The best John could do was exclaim how he was proud of Sam for his continued achievements, that he knew his youngest would learn to read in no time and then disappear into the kitchen to get himself a beer.

Sam decided he didn't want to sit up in bed so he grabbed his cane and left the room, walking as quietly as he could down the hallway to the stairs. With one hand on the railing and the other gripping his cane, Sam descended the staircase.

He listened intently to the taptaptap of the tip of the cane on Bobby's hardwood floor as he entered the den and quickly found the couch, twenty steps from the bottom stair.

Sitting down, Sam ran a hand over his short hair. It was growing but not fast enough for his liking, it was still shorter than Dean's. Sam laid his head back and closed his eyes, just listening to the sounds of the house.

He startled when he heard footsteps approaching him. Sam grabbed his cane and moved to stand before his father spoke.

"Mind if I sit with you?"

Sam sank back down onto the couch and shrugged, "Sure."

He felt the cushion beside him dip down as his father's late settled onto it.

"Couldn't sleep either?" John asked quietly.

Sam shook his head, fiddling with his cane, folding it up and laying it on his lap.

Father and son lapsed into silence for a long moment before John spoke up again.

"How are you feeling… about all of this?"

Sam's eyebrows furrowed and he turned his head in his father's direction, "About what… being blind?"

John shifted uncomfortably on the couch, "Sure… and about Rayann."

"I need to learn how to become independent again," Sam muttered, "I can't rely on Dean all the time."

The young man heard his father give a sharp intake of breath and knew that, whatever John's issues were, he'd hit a nerve.

"How's your reading coming along? I heard you were having some trouble this afternoon," his Dad commented, sounding as though he were struggling to find things to talk about.

"Fine," Sam answer simply.

John cleared his throat, "Do you… ah, can I help?"

Sam's eyes widened.

"You really want to help me with my Braille?"

"Sure," his Dad replied, "Neither of us are sleeping so why not?"

Sam stood up, excitedly, and unfolded his cane. His father really wanted to get involved with this. Sam wasn't stupid though, he had a feeling Dean or Bobby had talked to John after he'd arrived after Rayann left but the young man didn't care. He wanted to show his father that just because he was blind now, didn't mean he couldn't help out on hunts, even if it was only research.

Sam stopped when he felt his father put a hand on his arm, "Why don't I get the stuff? Where is it?"

"On the kitchen table," Sam answered and sat down again. He and Dean had gone over the alphabet again before going upstairs to bed.

The young man listened to the sound of his father's footfalls as he moved from the hardwood of the den to the linoleum that covered the kitchen floor. There was a shuffling of papers and his father's footsteps came closer again.

Sam felt the couch cushions sink when John sat down and reached out a hand.

The older man settled the papers into Sam's lap and leaned back, watching as his son rifled through them quickly.

"I'm not great at the alphabet yet," Sam held up a page with a series of raised dots on it, the corresponding letters written beneath, "Can we do this one first?"

There was a pause and Sam frowned.

"Sorry," John muttered, "Whatever you want."

Sam set the paper down flat on his lap and touched his right hand to it so that his fingers brushed the raised dots.

"Is this an 'A'?"

Brow furrowed in concentration, Sam worked on 'reading' the Braille dots for a few minutes before John cleared his throat.

"Sam," he began, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

The younger man felt the paper being pulled out from underneath his fingers and his wrist went limp, his hand resting against his knee.

"What?" he asked nervously.

"Why don't you want to stay here? After the month, I mean?"

Sam's heart began to speed up. He should have known his Dad wasn't really interested in helping him out with the Braille. It had all been a ruse to get his attention.

He folded his arms around his middle and turned his head away from John deliberately.

"You never liked hunting, I know," John began, trying to be as diplomatic as possible for once.

"But-" Sam began but his father interrupted, "No, let me finish."

"You can't help us out on hunts," John told him, "You can't see. You'd just stay in the motel room, waiting for us. Why would you want to do that?"

"Dad, I can-" Sam began again but once more, John stopped him.

"You'd be unhappy, you know you would be," he continued, "I'm just trying to do what's best for you. If you stay here, with Bobby, you'll be able to become more and more independent and Rayann Muir can still see you."

Sam ground his teeth, frustrated with his father.

"You don't know what I can and can't do!"

John didn't say anything for a long moment. Sam was amazed that he had managed to render his father mute, if only for a little while.

"I don't want to stay here, I want to be with Dean, I want-" Sam's head snapped back with the force of the blow.

Shock drew all colour from his face and his eyes widened. His father had just hit him!

Fumbling for his cane, Sam stood, spilling his papers onto the floor. The cane clattered the hardwood uselessly but Sam ignored it. He began backing away from the couch, narrowly missing the coffee table.

"Sam-" His father's voice called but the young man shook his head, "Don't talk to me! Don't come near me! Don't touch me!"

One hand going to his still-stinging cheek, tears welled up in Sam's milky eyes as he continued to back away.

"Son," John tried again and Sam heard the couch springs squeak as his father stood up.

"Leave me alone!" Sam cried, hot tears streaming down his face.

Footsteps approached Sam and he backed away as fast as he could.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice called and the young man stopped.

"Dean," he reached out with his free hand and grabbed his brother's arm.

"What the fuck, Dad?" Dean snarled, pulling Sam behind him, shielding him.

"Screw this," John muttered, "I can't deal with this shit right now."

Sam heard his father's footsteps move away and then the front door slammed shut. He felt Dean grip his shoulders tightly, "Sam, what happened?"

"He…he…" Sam stammered, still in shock.

"Shhh," Dean soothed, "It's okay."

Sam was pulled into his brother's arms and he closed his eyes.

"D-Dad… h-hit me… he hit me… D'n," Sam choked, tears continued to run down his face.

Dean's grip on Sam tightened, "Son of a bitch."

"C'mon Sammy," Dean released Sam from the embrace but kept a hand on his shoulder, "Let's sit on the couch."

Sam followed his brother, feeling betrayed and sat down when Dean told him it was alright to do so.

His brother squeezed his shoulder and Sam wiped his face with the back of his hand.

"Why does Dad hate me?"

Instead of the expected response of, "Dad doesn't hate you, Sammy," Dean didn't reply at all.

"I'll make us some warm milk, okay?" he said, completely ignoring the question.

Sam lowered his head. He heard Bobby's familiar footsteps as he moved downstairs and into the kitchen, talking to Dean quietly.

Sam lay down on his side on the couch, arms wrapped around his middle.

Maybe his father was right and he should just stay here. It was clear John didn't want him around anyway. Dean was also an advocate of him remaining in Sioux Falls.

I'm useless, Sam thought sadly, I can't hunt and I can't defend myself. I'd just be in the way if I went with Dad and Dean.

Closing his eyes, Sam was asleep by the time Dean came into the den, holding a mug of warm milk in each hand.

Author's Note:

1. And the Father of the Year Award goes to… Not John!

2. Thanks to mandancie, nupinoop296, Souless666, cold kagome, BranchSuper, d767468, Jeanny, MysteryMadchen, reannablue, SherlockedForever15, SamDeanLover28, babyreaper, SPN Mum, L.A.H.H, doyleshuny, baileylovesyou0400, and Clowns or Midgets for reviewing.

3. Thanks to everyone who alerted, favourited, and followed.

4. Reviews are much appreciated!