Chapter Twenty-Six
Sam ran his fingers over the spines of the books, frowning as he concentrated on understanding the Braille titles.
"Do you just want me to tell you what they are?" Dean asked but Sam shook his head, "No thanks. I got it."
They were in the town's old, stuffy library. Sam had wanted to pick up more reading material, to practice and Bobby had informed that the Sioux Falls Library had a small collection of books in Braille.
"This one," Sam announced with confidence and pulled it off the shelf.
"What is it?" Dean asked, only seeing a white cover page with raised dots.
"Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone," Sam answered.
He heard Dean snort, "Harry Potter? Really? Aren't you a little old for that?"
Sam frowned at his brother, "These books are for kids and adults, Dean. Besides, a novel would be good practice for me."
"Okay," his brother replied, "If that's the one you want."
"Are you going to take anything out?" Sam asked curiously.
"Me? Read? Only the menus at diners, Sammy, you know that," Dean joked and Sam laughed along with him.
SPN
Dean glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye. Sam had the novel open on his lap, the fingers of his right hand running over the raised dots.
"Hey Sammy?" he asked and Sam raised his head a little to show he was listening.
"Yeah?"
"You want to get something to eat?" Dean asked. Sam had been feeling more and more sure of himself since returning home from the hospital- he'd gotten the knack of reading Braille, he could still drive the Impala (albeit with Dean's help)- and Dean wanted to push the limits just an inch more.
"You mean at a restaurant?" Sam asked, now starting straight ahead.
"Sure," Dean replied, trying to sound casually about it, "I'm getting hungry and Dad and Bobby aren't expecting us back anytime soon, you know?"
Sam's mouth turned down into a frown.
"I don't know, Dean," he muttered.
"Hey, if you don't want to, that's fine," the twenty-two year old said, disappointed, "We'll go back to Bobby's and have something there."
Dean left it at that for a moment and Sam went back to reading.
"I just thought you'd be ready."
Sam raised his head again turning so that his milky eyes were staring at Dean.
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, insulted.
Dean shook his head even though Sam wouldn't be able to see it, "No, no, you want to go back to the Salvage Yard."
"Dean," Sam growled, "What do you mean you thought I'd be ready?"
Dean grinned; he knew he'd be able to trick Sam.
"Eating at a restaurant isn't much different than eating at home, is it?" Dean asked, "And I'm sure it would really impress Rayann if she knew you were able to all this stuff on your own, before she could get around to it herself."
Sam bit his lip, thinking.
"Okay," he answered finally, "But this is serious, Dean. No jokes. Promise?"
Dean sighed, "I'll be on my best behaviour. Don't worry, I won't embarrass you."
He pulled into the parking lot of a diner that was close by, one that he'd never been to and turned off the Impala's engine.
Getting out of the car, Dean waited as Sam unbuckled his seatbelt, opened the door and stepped out, cane gripped tightly in his hand.
Dean resisted the urge to reach out and take his brother's elbow even though he knew Sam would be fine so instead he fell into step beside him.
"There's a step," Dean told his brother and Sam tapped the end of the cane against the curb.
"Okay, got it," Sam muttered, "Thanks."
Dean held the door open for Sam, allowing him to go inside first and then he smiled at the petite blonde girl waiting for them.
"Two?" She asked, grabbing a menu from the shelf in the podium she was standing behind.
The girl looked at Sam, bent down and pulled out a second menu, this one blank except for the familiar raised dots of Braille.
Dean raised an eyebrow at the sight of it. The waitress just smiled.
The twenty-two year old was impressed. He knew that most public places had to be wheelchair accessible but he didn't know about the Braille menus for the blind. He wondered if every restaurant had them or if it was just this diner.
"I'll show you to your seats," the waitress said and Dean took the lead, this time grabbing his brother's elbow.
They stopped in front of a booth and sat down, Sam folding the cane and setting it down on the seat beside him.
"Can I start you off with drinks?" the waitress said and set out the menus.
"Oh… uh… I don't need-" Sam began but then Dean reached out and grabbed his brother's wrist, setting his hand down on the menu.
"Oh!" Sam exclaimed, "This is Braille?"
The waitress nodded, "The owner's wife has glaucoma and he had about a half-dozen of the menus in Braille for her and the customers who need them."
Sam smiled and Dean returned the gesture.
"Can I get a beer?" he asked the girl.
"Sammy, what do you want?" Dean asked and Sam said he'd like water.
The waitress nodded and walked away, her footsteps fading as she returned to the front of the diner.
Sam leaned forward, "Did you know about this?"
His hand rested on the Braille menu, telling Dean that was what he was talking about.
"No," Dean answered truthfully, "I'm just as surprised as you. I was all prepared to read the menu to you and everything."
Sam sat back and opened his menu. Dean smiled and flipped through his until he found the section with burgers.
W
Dean already knew what he wanted. But Sam was still reading.
The waitress had returned with their drinks and asked if they were ready; Dean told her he'd wait for his brother.
"C'mon Sam," Dean groaned playfully, "It's a menu, not an encyclopedia."
Sam raised his head, looking sheepish.
"I don't know some of these words yet," he muttered, "I…uh… have to spell them out before I can actually read them…"
Dean could have kicked himself. They'd been so focused on learning the Braille words for objects around the house- pieces of furniture- that he'd never even thought to label food items for his brother.
"Sorry, Sammy," he murmured apologetically, "Do you want me to help?"
Sam sighed and nodded, closing the menu.
"They have lots of sandwiches," Dean told him, opening his own menu again.
SPN
John frowned when his phone rang in his pocket. Grumbling slightly at the annoyance, he answered it.
"Yeah?"
"Hello to you too, Winchester," Ellen Harvelle's voice said dryly.
John sat straight up, causing Bobby to look at him, perplexed.
"Ellen! Why are you calling? Is something wrong?" John asked, forgetting that the woman was supposed to hate him.
"I'll tell you what's wrong, John," she replied, "You and the boys haven't been to visit."
"What?" the father asked, brow furrowed in confusion.
"You said you'd let us know how Sam's doing," Ellen reminded him, "And personally, I'd like a little more than a verbal update. Come see us."
John was speechless. Ellen Harvelle hated him and now she was demanding that he travel to the Roadhouse for a visit?
"Uh… we can't just now, Ellen," he replied, scratching the back of his head nervously.
"And why not?" she replied sassily.
"Sam… he's on dialysis… he can't travel…"
The woman didn't speak for a long time.
"Ellen? Are you there?" John asked, wondering if the woman had left the phone.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING?!" John jumped, holding the phone away from his ear.
"I- I'm sorry," John spluttered, stunned at Ellen's reaction, "I didn't know it meant that much to you."
"We've all been waiting to hear from you, John, with good news and now when I have to call you tell me that that sweet boy's sick!" the woman fumed and John turned beet red with embarrassment.
"Who's waiting?" John squeaked, yes, actually squeaked and prepared himself for another tirade.
"Ash and myself for one," Ellen snapped, "But have you forgotten that Joshua and Caleb also helped rescue your son? They're always asking me about him when they come in here but I can't tell them anything because I don't know."
"Why didn't they call themselves, if they're so concerned about Sam?" John asked, starting to get angry now.
"Because they know what your like," Ellen replied, "They thought it best if they waited for you to call, like you said you would."
John heaved an exasperated sigh, "Jesus… can't they do anything on their own? Tell them that Sam's on dialysis but the doctor is confident that they'll find him a kidney soon? Okay?"
Ellen harrumphed but told John she would relay the message.
"And when Sam's ready to travel," she finished, before ending the call, "Come to the Roadhouse."
John stared at the phone for a long moment before looking at Bobby.
"Why does it feel like my friends are a bunch of children instead of hunters?"
Bobby just chuckled and returned to the book he was reading.
SPN
"More coffee?" the waitress asked and Randall nodded.
He raised the cup to his lips and drank, his eyes not leaving the two Winchesters who were sitting a few booths ahead of him.
He had only gone out for a bite of lunch and been extremely surprised when the brothers entered the diner a few minutes after he had.
The older brother- Dean, Gorman thought his name was- had his back to Randall and Sam sat facing him.
The young man stuck out like a sore thumb. Although Dean was a handsome youth and likely caught the eye of every girl in the diner, Sam was the one drawing surreptitious attention.
Tall and thin, with short hair and milky eyes, Sam was very out of place in the cheery diner.
His attitude, happy and lighthearted, seemed to undermine his appearance. Although clearly sick, Sam made the other patrons forget that when he burst out laughing at something his brother said, not letting the trauma he had gone through show.
At least not in this public place.
Gorman wondered if he should go over and say hello but then thought better of it. He did not want to become too familiar with the brothers.
Instead, he was content just to sit and watch.
SPN
Sam, fully aware of his dietary restrictions, ordered a garden salad for lunch.
Dean stared at his brother's leafy meal and felt bad that he got to eat whatever he wanted while Sam was forced to be careful about what he put into his mouth.
"You could have had a sandwich," Dean told him, "You don't have to stick to rabbit food, you know."
Sam shrugged and picked at his salad.
"Hey, is everything okay?" Dean asked, concerned at Sam's quiet.
"Yeah," he replied, "I'm okay."
Dean nodded, "Maybe you'll actually turn into a rabbit if you eat enough greens."
Sam actually laughed out loud at that and Dean smiled, glad that a simple, silly comment could bring his brother such joy.
"If I'm a rabbit," Sam smirked, "Than you're a pig."
"Hey!" Dean replied, only pretending to be insulted.
Sam just chuckled, bringing a forkful of lettuce to his mouth and chewing it with exaggerated pleasure.
Dean shook his head and started in on his burger.
W
"You boys were sure at the library for a long time," Bobby greeted as Sam and Dean entered the house.
Dean smiled, "We stopped to have lunch."
Bobby raised his eyebrow, "You ate out?"
"Yeah," Sam replied, "The diner had menus in Braille."
"So it went well?" the grizzled hunter asked and both Winchesters nodded.
"Hm," Bobby replied, "Looks like you might not need Rayann's help for much longer."
Sam's expression looked stricken for a minute.
"I know she said I should just concentrate on getting better but-" he began but Bobby interrupted him.
"I don't mean we're going to give her the sack right now, Son. She will probably have a lot more to show you that we just can't."
Sam relaxed visibly and Dean smirked.
"Aww does Sammy have a crush?"
The eighteen-year old turned his head in the direction of Dean's voice, face going red.
"I do not!"
Dean's grin grew wider. This was adorable!
"Sure," he commented in an off-hand manner, "That's why your face looks like a tomato."
"I don't have a crush on her, Dean!" Sam snapped.
"Okay, okay, calm down," the twenty-two year old had decided that enough was enough, "I'm just kidding."
Sam narrowed his unseeing eyes at him for a moment before turning away, "I'm going to read."
"She does have a nice ass though," Dean called after his brother and saw Sam's shoulders hunch.
Bobby raised an eyebrow at him as the bedroom door slammed behind Sam.
"What? It's a joke," Dean said, "Sam knows I'm kidding."
Bobby just shook his head; "We'll probably not see him for a few hours now. Good going, Dean."
The younger man scoffed and flapped his hand, "He'll be fine."'
Glancing around the living room, Dean noticed they were missing a member of their small family.
"Where's Dad?"
"Out back," Bobby answered, "In the garage, I think."
Dean nodded and headed outside.
SPN
Sam set his cane on the bed closest to the door and sighed. He raised his free hand and rubbed the scabbed-over cut above his eyebrow.
He knew Dean had just been fooling around but the comment about Rayann wasn't what was really bothering Sam.
Dean's words had triggered a thought, a rather depressing one, in Sam.
What if no girl wanted to be with him? What if they were all turned off by his eyes? By the fact that he was blind?
He knew he was being stupid and any girl with any integrity inside would look past his disability.
Besides, he really shouldn't be thinking about girlfriends right now. He needed to focus on becoming independent.
Still, the idea of being alone forever hurt.
Breathing out audibly, Sam chastised himself.
"Get a grip," he muttered, "You know life's no Hollywood movie but if there is a girl out there for me I'll find her."
Pushing the thoughts of relationships- future or otherwise- from his mind, Sam opened the book he'd borrowed from the library and sat down on the bed.
Author's Note:
Thanks to mara-isamoose, SamDeanLover28, reannablue, mechachic, L.A.H.H, BranchSuper, Ghostwriter, MysteryMadchen, Jenjoremy, SPN Mum, and whimsicalbarwench for reviewing.
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