#blind!sam

It was a trap. Dean should have realized it. Everything came just a little too easily but he was tired and he wanted to get back to the Bunker and well, if for the first time in his life the hunt came easy, well he wasn’t about to question it. He should have and he knew that but he didn’t.

Sam was closest to the explosion. He wasn’t sure if there was a tripwire or if the explosion was on timer or what but he was the closest. He was blown backwards, his blade falling out of his hands and hit his head on a pile of rubble and then ceased to move.

Dean crawled over to him, ignoring the pain that was in his leg (it wasn’t bad, some shrapnel was in it) and grabbed Sam’s face, holding him, begging for Sam to hold on, to not let go like this, that Dean would take care of him.

He was still breathing and Dean took that as a win as he picked up his brother and carried him to the Impala, still talking to him, hoping that the sound of his voice would bring Sam back but Sam didn’t respond. He’s starting to open his eyes but they’re cloudy and unfocused like he’s not really seeing anything and Dean’s not sure how to feel about that. A hunter without his sight is a dead hunter.

By the time they get to the Bunker, Sam’s talking a little bit. It’s grabbled words almost like he can’t get his mouth to form the right words and sounds and Dean reaches across the cab to grab his hand, squeezing it lightly before he got out, walked to the other side and helped his brother inside the Bunker.

Sam clung to Dean, his fingers digging into Dean’s jacket as he walked on wobbly legs inside and all the while Dean was talking to him, telling him that he was going to be okay except Sam didn’t respond, at all and that worried Dean.He laid Sam down on his bed, brushing his hair out of his face and still Sam kept a hand on Dean’s jacket, holding him tight.

“You’re gonna be okay, Sammy.” Dean muttered, removing Sam’s shoes before coming back up to his head, once again pushing the hair out of his face, running his fingers through it. “I’m going to be right back. Okay, Sammy? You just wait here. I’ll be right here.”

He had to pry Sam’s fingers off his jacket to run to get the first aid kit. There was a cut on Sam’s forehead that needed to be stitched up and while he hit the back of his head, Dean didn’t feel any blood there, just a bump. However that still had him worried. Sam wasn’t responding to him like he should have been, staring out in front of him without really looking like he was seeing anything.

When he came back into the room, Sam was sitting up, calling out Dean’s name in fear. Dean rushed towards him, dropping the things that he had gotten on the bed and grabbed Sam’s face.

“I’m here, Sammy.” Dean said, cupping Sam’s face. “I’m here.”

But Sam was shaking his head, eyes still unfocused. “I can’t… I can’t see, Dean.” He muttered, voice still slightly slurred. “I can’t… Dean, I can’t see.”

“It’s okay.” Dean said, trying to keep his voice steady even though he knew that it wasn’t going to be okay. Sam hit his head, hard and he lost his vision and Dean wasn’t sure what to do with that. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to fix you.”

Sam still hadn’t stopped shaking his head, his whole body shivering as he reached out for Dean, hands grabbing at nothing until he found contact with Dean’s body and held on tight. “Dean…” He sounded so close to crying now. “I can’t hear anything. I can’t… are you…”

“Shh…” Dean shushed despite the fact that Sam just told him that he couldn’t hear anything and he ignored the tug at his heart that this might not be something that he could fix.

Broken bones and gashes he could fix. Reset the bone and stitch up the cut and everything would be okay. Give days, weeks, months, it would heal but the head, when there was something wrong with the brain, Dean couldn’t fix that and if Sam couldn’t see or hear and if he couldn’t do that then he couldn’t hunt and if Sam couldn’t hunt then that meant...

That meant nothing. 

Dean decided right then and there that it didn’t mean anything. At all. If Sam couldn’t hunt, then he wouldn’t hunt either. If Sam couldn’t see, then Dean would be his eyes and if Sam couldn’t hear then Dean would hear for him and that would be it.

And maybe they were finally given an out to get out of hunting. They’ve tried to get out before but it never seemed to work. But then again, they never tried to get out together. However with this, Dean couldn’t still hunt, not when Sam needed him.

So that was it. He would stop hunting and he would help Sam.

Sam cried. He kept a hand on Dean, gripping his jacket until his knuckles turned white and held onto Dean like he was afraid that Dean was just going to disappear and leave him in darkness and Sam cried. Dean felt like crying too. Seeing his brother like this, completely vulnerable and unable to defend himself against anything but he refused to cry. Not like Sam would know anyway but one of them needed to be strong.

Dean needed to be strong enough for the both of them.

He kept talking to Sam despite the fact that he knew that Sam couldn’t hear him as he cleaned up the wound on his head, washing away the blood. It seemed to comfort Dean, hearing some kind of sound that blocked out the silence and didn’t overwhelm him.

When Dean pressed the needle into Sam’s skin, Sam yelped but he didn’t pull away and Dean wished there was someway that he could have warned his brother what he was about to do but there was nothing that he could do. So he stitched Sam up, running a comforting hand through his hair when he could and let Sam grab ahold of him.

After that, when Sam was all stitched up and had stopped bleeding, Dean was at a lost what to do. Sam needed to get clean, take a shower but he didn’t want to just lead his brother aimlessly through the Bunker and then dunk him in water. He wasn’t sure if that would send Sam into shock.

Then an idea crossed Dean’s mind and he quickly shed Sam of his jacket and held out Sam’s arm and wrote the word ‘shower’ on Sam’s arm with his finger.

It took Sam a couple of moments to realize what Dean was doing and he grabbed Dean’s hand again, placing it back on his arm and told Dean to do it again.

This time he said every letter that Dean spelled out.

“Shower?” Sam asked, every bit of uncertainty that he was feeling coming out in his voice. “You wanna take a shower?”

“Not me, Sammy. You.” Dean said before he caught himself with the realization that Sam couldn’t hear him. So he wrote on ‘no’, waiting for Sam to say it out loud and then wrote ‘you’.

“You want me to take a shower?”

Dean quickly wrote out yes and Sam nodded in agreement and let Dean lead him into the shower room. He stood there, completely pliant as Dean undressed him fully and walked him backwards underneath the spray. Sam kept a hand on Dean, fingers still digging into muscle but it was reassuring in a way. Dean was carefully, his movements slow and methodical as he washed Sam, washing his hair and his body, making sure that every inch of Sam was clean before he dried him off and dressed him in the softest clothes that he could find.

Dean lead him back to his bedroom and set him on the bed and wrote ‘stay’ on his arm, waiting for Sam’s acknowledgement that he understood what Dean wrote before he continued to write ‘food’.

Sam looked up at him, face hopeful and nodded eagerly.

Dean placed a hand on top of Sam’s head, a comforting weight before he disappeared to head off to the kitchen to make something to eat. He made a couple of sandwiches and cut an apple up for Sam and brought it back to his brother who looked as if he hadn’t moved an inch.

Sam refused to be feed by Dean. He closed his his mouth and refused to open it before Dean finally handed over the sandwich to his brother.

It was a little awkward. Dean wouldn’t deny that. Sam couldn’t see the sandwich and he took small bites but he ate it and the apples and he thanked Dean for it. Dean wrote on his arm that he was going to go clean up and was back within minutes.

That night, Sam didn’t let go of Dean, even as he slept. He held onto Dean like Dean was the only thing that was anchoring him to the earth.

The sight and hearing loss was temporary. Not that it really mattered because Dean was fully prepared to do everything in his power to help Sam get his senses back and if that failed, then he was fully prepared to help him for the rest of his life. 

But it was only temporary and while there was no need for Sam to keep a hand on him at all times, keeping close contact and there was no need for Dean to keep Sam right next to him, none of that changed.

Adrenaline spikes through Sam's veins, hot and acidic, ramping up his panic; he blinks against pitch-blackness even though knows that he's outside, that it's daylight.

"I can't," he starts again, but then he feels Dean's callused fingers on his sleeve and then against the bared skin of Sam's forearm. His panic recedes.

Dean's hand shakes faintly, voice rough with fear when he speaks. "Shh...don't worry, Sam; we've got this... we're gonna fix this."

Oh, man. That escalated quickly, hahaha!