A/N: So we've reached the end. It's funny to think I started this after the season 10 finale and I was stuck after 2500 words, fearful maybe I'd lost my motivation or the ability to write for these characters. Now here we are over 19,000 words later and I'm happy to say that I definitely found my joy again in writing. I want to give another shout out to my friend who this is dedicated to and thank her for her support while I wrote this story. I hope she can see how she is a part of this story.

A/N 2: I expect the response to this to be mixed based on reviews I've received, but I'm hoping that overall everyone will be able to see why I made the writing choices I made here. Please read the end notes. I do pray that you enjoy this chapter and thank you all again for the reviews, follows, favorites, and pms. I'm hoping to see you next story which should be posted tomorrow and is a bit of an 11x02 AU/missing scene.

Chapter 4: All We Have

What's to come of us
If all we have is gone?
We're all we have, we're all we have
We'd be lost-Anberlin

oooo

Dean was thrown out of the room so swiftly that he barely registered how he had ended up making it down the hallway and into a tiny waiting area he'd never been in before.

What the hell just happened? He asked himself.

He couldn't get Sam's face out of his mind. It was so familiar. If he didn't know any better, it was as if Sam was having-

A vision.

The thought popped into his head so suddenly that it made him question where it had come from himself. However, Dean knew why he recognized Sam's expression. It was the same one he hoped to never see again, but it couldn't be.

It was the fever, the brain injury, he reassured himself. Yes, he wasn't going to get too ahead of himself. Right now all he cared about was whether or not Sam was okay.

He saw more staff rushing up and down the hallway. However, Dr. Noha never came out. He told himself that it was a good sign because surely she'd be there by now giving him the bad news. Yet he found little comfort in his internal pep talks. He couldn't believe that mere hours before he was ready to let Sam die, to kill him, and now he just wanted him to live more than anything else. Just as a nurse was rushing by him, he jumped up and grabbed her by the arm.

"Is he alive?" He asked, plaintively.

She nodded 'yes' and Dean let himself breathe for a second.

He resumed his wait and after what seemed like hours, he was escorted back to Sam's room. Dr. Noha was at the foot of Sam's bed speaking to a nurse as he took in his brother's still form once more. He noticed immediately that Sam was now on a ventilator looking frailer than ever before.

Once the nurse had gone, Dr. Noha addressed him.

"Despite what happened earlier, Sam is stable for now," she said.

"What did happen earlier?" Dean asked.

"It appears Sam suffered a significant seizure which compromised his breathing and led to cardiac arrest. We've increased his anticonvulsant medication but unfortunately we also had to hook Sam up to a ventilator to make sure his airway stays open. Also, with the infection he's fighting, his oxygen levels were dropping."

"What about the way he was rambling on?"

"I was actually going to ask you about that. Did Sam suffer some sort of trauma he was reliving? Witness a crime?"

Dean shook his head even though that wasn't entirely the truth. He was pretty sure having his brother about to take off his head with a scythe constituted as a trauma. However, Sam didn't seem to be talking about that.

"What about Wyoming? Are you from there?"

"No Kansas," Dean replied.

"Have you taken a recent trip there?"

"No," Dean said, shaking his head.

"Well, it's difficult to say," she said, approaching Sam's side, shining the penlight in his eyes. "It's not uncommon for people to experience hallucinations before a seizure strikes or to have an altered mental state with a head injury."

"I guess," Dean mumbled, not really sure of anything anymore.

Dr. Noha left Dean then and he resumed his vigil, sometimes transfixed by watching the peaks on the heart monitor or the wavy pattern of the EEG. He thought of turning on the TV but thought better of it, not wanting to be reminded of what was out there, what he did.

He was briefed by other doctors and learned that Sam's pelvis was put back together with pins and screws. It was a very serious break and he'd be off his feet for awhile. He also heard murmurings that Sam wasn't responding to the antibiotics as quickly as they'd hoped. Apparently his blood pressure was stable though which he was assured was a 'good thing' because if his blood pressure dropped and he went into septic shock, it would most assuredly be fatal.

He wasn't so sure he could find any 'good thing' about any of this, not when he was mopping sweat from Sam's face when his fever spiked to 105 degrees, and he could practically see waves of heat radiating off of him. Not to mention there were times when he saw the ICP monitor dancing dangerously close to that 25 mark, sometimes even hitting 26 while he willed it back down.

"Come on Sam," he'd beg, hoping that he got the message.

He got used to the ebb and flow of the hospital. He knew the nurse would come in every 30 minutes to record Sam's temperature, check his blood pressure, and to write down what was on the monitors. Then there'd be another nurse who would take Sam's blood to check if he was 'responding' to the medication. Dr. Bennett was Sam's other doctor, the one who hadn't even introduced himself before, and he'd check the dressing on his abdomen, give a brief nod, and leave until the next day. Dr. Noha was a constant presence and Dean learned it was because Sam had been given the "prestigious distinction" of the sickest person in the hospital, besides the patients who had already succumbed to their injuries.

"It should be me little brother," Dean said after a whole week had passed, since Sam had woken up, had a seizure and nearly died. "It should be me in that bed. Not you. I'm sorry," he finished. He realized this was the first time he had apologized to Sam, shown him something other than contempt in a long while. His last real words to Sam before were telling him he should have died instead of Charlie, that his very existence was a burden to the entire world, so much so that he needed to die.

Dean heard someone clear her throat behind him and he saw it was Dr. Noha.

"I'm going to check Sam's head dressing," she said, sheepishly.

Dean had no idea if she had heard him.

She carefully unwrapped Sam's head, pulled on a pair of gloves, and turned his face sideways careful not to dislodge the ventilator, inspecting his wound.

"He's healing well," She said.

Dean could see that the wound in the back of Sam's head looked much better than a week ago, but the ICP monitor in Sam's head still unnerved him. His hair was sticking up in ten directions.

"He'd probably die if he saw his hair like that," Dean said, wryly.

Dr. Noha smiled.

"Brothers, huh?"

"You said you have one?" Dean asked.

"Two actually," she said.

"I think this one is enough for me," Dean said, half jokingly, but Sam was more than enough, enough to sustain him, not destroy him like he had made him think.

"They can be quite the handful and they always think they have to protect me when it should be the other way around."

Perhaps she had heard him.

"Sam, he…uh…thinks he has to save me, but-," Dean swallowed hard to hide the emotion in his voice, and scrubbed his hands over his face.

"I understand," she said. "I'm the oldest too."

She went to the cupboard and retrieved some fresh bandages, not wrapping them quite so thick this time. She arranged Sam's hair so that it cascaded over the sides of the dressing looking neater than before.

"Thank you," Dean said, quietly.

ooooo

Sam still hadn't regained consciousness since his seizure after ten days and there was concern that he had slipped into a coma. Dean was instructed that he had to leave the room while they ran some tests to try to figure out what Sam's level of consciousness was.

It was the first time he'd left Sam's room all week, besides to use the bathroom which was just outside. He had tried to contact Cas but to no avail. He had no idea if he was even alive, or about the events that had taken place prior to him being cured. He had to let himself deal with one thing at a time though.

He stepped into the waiting room which was busy but nothing like before. Everyone appeared normal, suffering from the usual maladies as far as he could tell. He allowed himself to look up at the television and they were speaking of riots after the devastating weather related phenomena in Wyoming.

Wyoming.

He almost didn't catch it at first, had quite nearly forgotten all about Sam's ramblings. It was pretty difficult to keep track of everything when medical terminology and abbreviations like BP, ICP, EKG, and EEG were being thrown around left and right. However, there it was.

He listened closer. There had been violence and looting and some people were even killed.

They look like they are killing each other.

Sam's words echoed in his head. It had to be a coincidence. Of course. There was nothing about the black veins Sam had spoken of, but then again…

Would the average person think of such a thing?

He supposed not but right now he didn't even want to think about it, not when Sam might very well be comatose.

He didn't have to wait long as a nurse poked her head around the door and gestured for him to come forward.

"I think it's safe to say that Sam is not in a coma," Dr. Noha said to him, as he went to sit back in the chair beside Sam's bed. "He's demonstrating response to external stimuli. Dr. Bennett also feels that Sam is responding to the antibiotics. His fever has come down slightly today."

Dean just nodded, not sure what to make of the new information. Sam still wasn't awake and was on a breathing tube, his skin alabaster and his lips bloodless. He also was still having minute seizures as evidenced on the EEG. His vision was still gone as far as he knew.

It was only safe to say that right now, he was still afraid he might lose his brother and he was even more fearful that he'd never be able to look Sam in the eye, tell him that he regretted everything, and it was his fault that they were in this mess.

ooooo

He was surprised the next day when he saw a familiar face in the doorway. It was Alex, dressed plainly in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, standing awkwardly outside the door with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hi," Dean said, softly. He wasn't really sure how to greet the guy who had helped get his brother to safety, and at the same time, he held hostage.

"How is he?" Alex asked, looking at Sam.

"Not in a coma I guess, but you wouldn't know by looking at him. He hasn't moved."

"Maybe he just needs time. He had some pretty serious injuries. Guess I called it on the pelvis fracture. Cal would have been proud."

"What happened to him?" Dean asked, genuinely curious and sympathetic.

"He had a hero's sendoff. His family is devastated though, not sure if they'll ever get over it, but he died trying to save someone's life. He's like your brother—"He stopped short, guiltily. "Look I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. Hopefully it's all going to work out."

"How come you didn't turn me in?" Dean asked. "I held a gun on you."

"You and your brother," he stated simply. "That's why I came back, you know. Not because of some stupid oath. I was scared that you were going to kill me. You had this look in your eye so my first instinct was to run as soon as I had the chance."

Dean eyed him curiously.

"Then I heard you talking to Sam and I thought that even if you were some hardened criminal that you couldn't be all bad if you cared about your brother like that."

"Thank you," Dean said.

"I gave the hospital some bogus information on your last name in case you were wondering. I figured you wouldn't want to sit there filling out forms and maybe you didn't want to give it out."

Dean smiled slightly.

"So, are you a hardened criminal?" Alex asked, half jokingly.

"I don't know," Dean answered, seriously.

ooooo

The next few days passed in a blur for Dean. The pressure on Sam's ICP monitor came down to 18, the lowest it had been in days, and Sam had begun to trigger the vent. His fever had broken and Sam showed signs of consciousness. He still hadn't opened his eyes yet to give Dean the information he was dying to know, could he see? However, he actually moved in his sleep, instead of the stillness that caused Dean such uneasiness before. Sam's vent was eventually removed and he was placed on a nasal cannula just as a precaution.

Dean sat by Sam's bedside, his usual routine, deep in thought when he heard his name.

"D…Dean?"

It was spoken haltingly, and with great effort but Dean was immediately on his feet looking at his little brother. Sam's eyes were still closed, and Dean barely breathed.

"Come on Sammy. Open your eyes."

Finally Sam did as he was told but Sam's eyes were not meeting his and Dean immediately felt defeat creep up, and ram him in the side, knocking the wind out of him, so much so that he had to hold on to Sam's bed railing for support. However, he brushed it off and immediately hit the call button to summon the doctor.

"Thirsty," Sam said, simply.

Dean grabbed the pitcher from the nightstand and filled a glass with water. He placed the straw in the cup and brought it to Sam's lips.

Sam seemed to sense it was there, but not quite where. He lifted up a hand and knocked it from Dean's grasp, causing it to spill all over him.

"Damn it, Sam!" Dean yelled, unable to hide his disappointment which had manifested as anger because now he knew Sam was still blind. There was no denying it any longer. He felt like a car with a deflated tire but no it was worse than that, instead like a tire that had popped on the freeway, sending him careening out of control.

"What's the matter?" Dr. Noha asked, walking into the room.

"He's awake. I…uh…was trying to give him some water, and it spilled," Dean said, sheepishly.

Sam was silent but Dean could see a wounded look on his face.

"Well, let's examine you and get you cleaned up," she said, calmly. "Dean, why don't you wait outside?"

Dean was led out of the room and he paced just outside the door. It was obvious Sam was still blind so what was the point?

ooooo

Sam Winchester came to consciousness slowly, as if emerging from a thick fog. His head felt strange as if it were tight in spots. The pain wasn't too bad and he realized he had a sort of numb disconnected feeling like he was medicated. He was thankful because the pain was nothing like when he'd first woken up, which he was pretty sure was on the ground. Back then, it was excruciating, unrelenting in his head, an incessant pounding building to a crescendo like the pressure in a volcano before it erupted.

He remembered only bits and pieces of before. He remembered the dark, shapeless blob charging toward them and then the car going topsy turvy as he threw himself over his brother, then everything had gone black.

He recalled Dean talking to him, asking him questions about the pain and he did his best to answer about the agony he felt in his head and the white hot burning he felt in his stomach but it was hard to put into words, to adequately describe. Based on his pain level then, he was guessing he was injured somewhere, but then again, it had felt like he was injured everywhere.

"D…Dean?" He said, trying out his voice.

Then he recognized Dean's voice like an echo down a long hallway. He was talking to him, asking him to open his eyes.

Hospital.

He could hear the familiar beeps around him, smell the familiar scents. He even recognized the stiff, scratchy blankets against his skin.

He opened his eyes and he believed he had succeeded, at least he thought so, but all he saw was darkness, everywhere. He was sure his eyes were open, could feel his eyeballs moving left and right, yet it was as if he was walking forward continuously through a long dark tunnel but never seeing the light.

The darkness. Of course. It had plunged him into this state, right? But, no, that didn't seem right. That's what Dean had told him but-

Blind.

He remembered everything now, an inky blackness, blanketing everything, being suffocated by his surroundings. Surely, there had to be something providing some source of light. Dean had tried to reassure him that it was indeed the darkness and they'd fight and win. He tried to listen to Dean and he believed they would take care of it. He'd been willing to sacrifice himself but he was just as willing to accept whatever consequences came with saving Dean, even if it meant crawling aimlessly through the dark, doing battle with faceless entities, until they found the light.

Now, he knew, his brother had lied. He recalled Dean holding him but he could barely stay conscious, felt himself falling, trying to crawl out of a hole, searching for purchase but the dirt kept slipping between his fingers so he couldn't quite make it out, until he dropped completely and knew no more. He'd woken up briefly, outside, alone. He knew Dean had left, because even though he couldn't see, somehow he could sense Dean was there. He was terrified even though he knew he'd probably gone for help but then he must have passed out again. There had been someone probing his head, but he knew it wasn't Dean, didn't recognize the hands as Dean's calloused but gentle hands. These ones were smoother, yet rougher, but Dean assured him that whoever this was, was helping him. This person had told him he was blind. The rest was murky at best and didn't make much sense: haunting images of black veins and people fighting.

"Thirsty," he said, coming back to the present, and realizing just how dry his throat and lips felt.

He heard Dean moving around, the water pouring into a glass, the sound crisp and sharp. He could feel his eyeballs moving left and right, seeking, but he might as well have had his eyes closed. He reached out his hand hoping to grab the glass but then he felt cold water soaking through his hospital gown. He distinctively heard Dean curse.

He's angry with me.

He felt his heart sink but he understood. After all, this was his fault. He had unleashed the darkness on them. Now he was blind on top of everything else. What more could he burden Dean with? He heard a woman's voice then, instructing Dean to leave. He listened intently as Dean's footsteps receded down the hallway until he couldn't distinguish them anymore.

"I'm Dr. Noha," she said. Sam could hear the smile in her voice even though he couldn't see it on her face. She smelled like cinnamon and her hands were precise, yet gentle, as she checked him over, asking him questions.

She lifted his eyelid.

"Can you see this, Sam?" She asked.

He wasn't sure what she was asking him to see, but he guessed it was a penlight or something.

He shook his head.

He heard her shoes clacking on the linoleum and the scribble of writing on a clipboard. Everything seemed so much louder now that he couldn't see.

"Is this permanent?" He asked, finally.

"I don't know," she admitted. "The swelling in your brain has come down considerably, but there is still room for improvement. We'll have to run tests—"

"But it might very well be permanent," Sam said, finishing for her.

"It's possible," she said.

He felt a lump forming in his throat, like a rock, and he tried to swallow past it, not wanting her to see him cry, and especially not wanting Dean to see him cry.

oooo

Dean was quickly running out of patience, waiting for Dr. Noha to emerge from Sam's room. He couldn't understand what was taking so long when all she had to do was give him a dry hospital gown.

"He's blind for good isn't he?" Dean said, immediately, when he saw her coming down the hall.

"Nothing is certain, Dean," she replied, sympathetically.

"But you said once the swelling came down, that you'd know."

"I said we'd know more, but Sam has only taken the first steps. We'll continue to monitor his progress. It's possible that the optic nerve has become entrapped due to his skull fracture. I'll order an MRI for later today."

Dean crossed his arms in front of him, and just nodded, casting his eyes downward.

"Why don't you go in and sit with Sam? Don't focus on that right now."

Dean couldn't help the thought that struck him.

Does it matter if I'm there? He can't see me anyway.

oooo

He knew Dr. Noha had left him then, hearing her footsteps retreating down the corridor. She had helped him change into a fresh hospital gown and checked him over, asking basic questions. His room was silent except for the steady beeping sounds. He listened closely for footsteps and he could hear some but he knew it wasn't his brother.

As he sat there, he let the gravity of the situation sink in. He supposed the blindness made sense, penance for what he had done. He had unleashed darkness on the world so now he must live in darkness too. He accepted it because he had succeeded in doing what he set out to do. The mark of Cain was gone and Dean was free. Also, he had ensured that Dean was okay after the accident. He didn't need to sit there and wallow in self pity or to make Dean feel bad.

He listened more intently and he was sure he heard it this time.

Just as he expected, Dean strolled through the door.

"Dean?" He said expectantly.

"How'd you know it was me?"

"I heard you, your footsteps. I guess being blind has its perks. It's like I have supersonic hearing now."

"Yeah," Dean said, gruffly. This time Sam could visualize the scowl on Dean's face in his mind, and he knew Dean didn't want him mentioning the fact that he was blind. He decided right then and there that he wouldn't talk about it anymore.

ooooo

They didn't say much at first, mostly making small talk. Sam asked Dean how he was doing and whether he'd been hurt in the accident.

"Bumps and scrapes," Dean answered, not even making complete sentences.

The results of Sam's MRI had been inconclusive. Sam's skull fracture was healing but it was possible that Sam's optic nerve was entrapped or that it had been damaged. Dr. Noha told him that she couldn't say definitively since there was still swelling present. The other option was exploratory surgery and she didn't think Sam was healthy enough for that.

Sam still slept a lot, which sometimes Dean was grateful for, since it was difficult talking to Sam and not having him meet his eyes.

Dr. Noha still visited every day. The pressure in Sam's brain had returned to normal limits and she'd removed the monitor from Sam's head. Without all the bandages and tubing now, Sam looked normal, well almost. There was still the fact that he couldn't see.

"Hi Dr. Noha," Sam would say in greeting whenever she walked into the room.

"You are really good, Sam," she'd say with a laugh.

Sam was able to personally recognize every doctor and nurse who happened to wander in his room but frankly the behavior was starting to sicken Dean. He didn't want Sam behaving like this was okay. Dr. Noha wasn't helping matters either as she still wouldn't give him a clear cut answer on Sam's situation. His jaw ached in spots from the constant clenching he did in aggravation.

ooooo

One morning, Sam opened his bleary eyes and looked confused.

"The sun is out," Sam said, suddenly.

Yes, he could tell the room was brighter. Before he had no perception of day and night, which made it difficult to fall asleep or sometimes to sleep at all.

Sam heard clattering as Dean nearly fell out of his chair.

"Sammy, you can see?" He asked expectantly. "Let me call the doctor," he continued, excitedly, pushing the call button.

"I can see there's light but—"

"I know Sam! It's morning," Dean said cutting him off.

Sam didn't know how to get through to his brother, how to tell him. He could hear a lightness in his step already, unlike the heavy trod he knew was Dean's distinct step lately, like he was carrying a heavy load on his back. Sam knew he was and it was his fault.

Dr. Noha arrived soon after.

"He can see," Dean said happily.

"No Dean, I…" Sam said, his voice dropping off. "I can see there is light in this room and shadows."

"Okay, Sam," she began. He could hear her moving around, closing the blinds in the room, throwing him back into the darkness. "What do you see Sam?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "It's dark."

"Tell me when I turn the light on," Dr. Noha said, approaching the light switch. She waited a few moments and then without warning, flicked the switch.

"It's on now," Sam said. "I can see the lights, sort of blurry but I can see them above me," Sam said looking up.

She flicked them back off.

"It's dark," Sam said.

"How about now?"

"They're on," Sam said, happily, a hint of a smile on his face.

"Very good. Can you tell me where I'm standing?"

Sam scanned the room and pointed in the general direction of Dr. Noha.

"I think Dean is over there," Sam pointed again.

Sam could hear Dean's foot tapping on the floor impatiently.

Sam sensed Dean in front of his face, could see a shadow in his line of vision.

"How many fingers am I holding up Sam?" Dean asked, harshly, holding up his hand.

"I…I don't know Dean. I can tell you are right here but I can't see that."

"So you can't see then?" Dean said, with hostility.

"I can make out shadows, and outlines, tell when it's light and dark only. There's some light now."

"So my brother can make out shapeless blobs? That's it?" Dean addressed Dr. Noha angrily.

"I think it's very promising that Sam can see some things now, maybe not clearly but—"

"It's bullshit!" Dean yelled. "That's what it is. It's the same crap you've been spilling since Sam woke up. He's screwed. Why don't you just tell him?"

Sam couldn't contain the sob that erupted from his throat.

"Get out!"

"Are you talking to me?" Dean asked, incredulously.

"Yes. Dean leave!" Sam sniffled. "Just go!"

oooo

Dean found himself out in the hallway, unsure why Sam was behaving so irrationally. Couldn't he get that he was blind? He wasn't going to get his vision back?

He didn't feel any guilt whatsoever about his behavior. As far as he was concerned, Sam should have thrown out Dr. Noha. She'd been stringing them along this whole time, making him believe there was hope when there was none.

"Dean," Dr. Noha began, closing Sam's door behind her. "We need to talk."

"Yeah we do," Dean retorted. "But I need to go in there and talk to Sam first."

"No," she said, forcefully, blocking the door. He watched her return to the no nonsense doctor he had seen when Sam was first brought in. "He doesn't want to see you now."

"He's confused," Dean said, attempting to slip past her.

"You know," she began, ignoring him and standing firm. "Sam might be the one who is blind but you're the one not seeing clearly right now. What good are eyes, if you refuse to see?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, indignantly.

"Are you seeing your brother? I mean really seeing him? Or are you only seeing his injury? I suggest you think about that and come back tomorrow. We'll see if Sam is up to seeing you then."

He walked away, realizing he didn't have anywhere to go. The car was at a junkyard, of all places, as he'd tracked it down while Sam was having his MRI. It would take him weeks to have it road ready. He opted instead to go sit in the waiting room. He'd wait for Sam to come to his senses, the ones he still had left anyway.

ooooo

Sam sat alone in his dim hospital room, the tears long since dried on his face. He knew it had been a few hours since he'd thrown Dean out, based on the light in the room. It was starting to be difficult to make out the outline of objects so he figured it was getting to be dinner time. They'd already rolled in his lunch tray as he heard the squeak of the wheels on the linoleum. He could smell the pungent odor of Salisbury steak congealing just beside him. The tray sat untouched, his appetite gone, and he could just make out a glint of fading sunlight on it. They hadn't rolled in the dinner one yet, so it made sense that it was most likely near six o'clock. After Dean had gone, he'd fallen into an uneasy slumber. Strange how he could see so clearly in all his dreams, but not see so well now at all.

He had been elated when he woke up, able to differentiate between the light and the dark. The ability to see some tiny illumination, to make out his brother's silhouette had restored something within him. He wanted to express his joy to Dean but he was scared when he quickly caught on how angry Dean was. He didn't want to get his brother's hopes up too high, even though he felt hopeful for the first time in awhile. Despite how he'd accepted whatever happened in regards to his vision, he couldn't help but beat back despair sometimes as it came roaring at him like a lion out for blood. He realized then that he never truly lost hope. It had been there comforting him, helping to keep the lion at bay.

As the light grew even fainter, he wished Dean was there, regretted throwing him out. When he was alone in the dark, it was hard not be afraid. Now that he had some perception of light, it felt even stranger to him to be without it. He thought about calling the nurse to switch on the lights but then he felt silly. He couldn't get up and do it himself. He still had quite a bit of pain in his extremities and the doctor told him he'd need physical therapy. He hadn't been out of bed or mobile at all in over two weeks and he wasn't going to risk renewed injury attempting such a feat.

He felt the beginnings of a headache gnawing at the base of the skull where his injury was. At first, it was nothing more than a twinge but then it was as if invisible fingers crawled up his scalp and gripped tightly. The pain became full blown as images began to float into his consciousness. The pain became so intense that he tried to find the call button to call someone for help. He felt around on the bed for it but couldn't find it. He knew there was a lamp nearby somewhere but he reached blindly for it and couldn't get hold of it. If he could just get the light on, he'd be able to find the call button.

"Help," he said weakly, as he could no longer fight the pain or the images that came with it.

He realized then that although this was much more intense, it was all too reminiscent of a vision as he saw someone formidable rising from the darkness and horrifying images of death and destruction flash across his mind hastily, chopped together so he could barely make out what was happening in one image before it flipped to the next. There was someone calling to him, asking for help but he couldn't see who it was.

He had the overwhelming urge to flee and he tried to pull himself up, even as pain tore through him, and he felt himself falling, pitching over the side of the bed.

oooooo

"Hey, wake up."

Dean felt himself being jostled awake and saw Dr. Noha peering down at him. He had fallen asleep sprawled between two waiting room chairs he had pushed together. He sat up, rubbing his bleary eyes, squinting up at her.

"Why am I not surprised to find you out here? Didn't I tell you to go home?"

"Is Sam ready to talk?" Dean asked, ignoring her question.

"I was going to ask you the same thing. Are you?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Dean said, tilting his head back over the chair and looking up at the ceiling. "He needs to accept the fact it's not getting better, that it's going to be crap from here on out."

"I think Sam has accepted things. He accepts he's blind, or visually impaired, for now. You haven't accepted it."

"No, I accept it alright. I accept that my little brother has a life of darkness ahead of him."

"But that's not what Sam accepts. He sees light, Dean."

"I get it okay? Shadows, outlines or whatever."

"No I mean light, as in hope. He does accept the circumstances for what they are right now, has made adjustments, but he does believe in himself. I think maybe he has enough hope for the two of you if you just let him share it."

Just then, Dean heard a commotion down the hallway and he saw staff running in the direction of Sam's room.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, shakily.

"Let me find out," she said. "Stay here."

She took off down the hallway but Dean followed, ignoring her orders.

"I walked in to bring in the dinner tray and found him on the floor," an orderly said, standing just outside Sam's room. "He was yelling and his nose was bleeding. I think he was hallucinating."

Dean didn't even let him finish, but instead ran into Sam's room.

Sam was on his side on the floor, his IV pulled, that same far away look in his eye that Dean recognized from several days before. The front of his hospital gown was now splotched with blood that was dripping from his nose. He was feebly trying to pull himself up into a sitting position.

Dean grabbed Sam's shoulders to steady him.

"Dean," Sam began through clenched teeth. "It's a person…The darkness is a person," Sam gasped. "Many people will die, because of me."

Sam's eyes still stared blankly ahead as Dr. Noha rushed in the door. Then his eyes rolled up into his head, and he went limp, falling against Dean.

"What happened?" She asked.

"I..I don't know," Dean said, still shaken. "He was on the floor, and then he passed out."

"I think it was some kind of seizure," she said.

Dean cradled his brother as Dr. Noha checked his eyes with a penlight.

"I'm going to send him for a CAT scan immediately. We have to make sure he didn't hit his head. I'll also contact Dr. Bennett to examine him, as well as ortho."

Sam was taken from Dean not long after, lifted by two orderlies looking limp and lifeless, then whisked away on his hospital bed, a bruise blossoming on his cheek from where he fell. He stared out of Sam's hospital room window, waiting. He noticed immediately how bright the sky was, the moon a blue thumbnail in the sky, stars beginning to glimmer, to match the glimmer in his own eye as he tried to hold back his tears.

oooo

The doctors came in to speak to him right before returning Sam to his room and besides the bruise on his cheek, Sam was relatively unscathed. Dr. Noha believed Sam had what she would call an absence seizure based on his blank stare, and Sam had woken up long enough to shrug it off to the doctor as just a headache, but Dean knew better. Sam was seeing things again. Sam was wheeled back into his room after an hour and a half and Dean approached the bed.

This time, he did look at his brother, really look at him. All the machinery was gone, most of the monitors except for the heart monitor had been taken away, although Dr. Noha said that it was possible they'd have to put Sam back on the EEG with his seizure activity. Sam's head was no longer bandaged and his hair fell naturally on the pillow.

He took in his brother's appearance, the sunken cheekbones, the dark smudges under his eyes, and the bruising on his face. He saw the gash on the side of Sam's cheek and he knew that he had put that there with his fist. He knew that for a fact, the other side of Sam's face was from the glass and from his tumble from the bed. He felt guilt settle into his stomach like a lead ball, weighing him down. He felt remorse for everything he said to Sam before and just recently. He honestly still didn't understand Sam's mindset on this completely but he was willing to hear him out. He knew there was so much left unsaid between them, each word a stone that had built a wall between him. He figured he'd added more stones than anyone.

He knew he'd let his own darkness consume him, his fear for Sam and his anger had taken over. He'd forgotten—

What it's like to love.

Sam's words echoed in his ears and he knew it was exactly this. He had forgotten, and Dr. Noha was right. He needed to see Sam as his brother again, not as a co-conspirator who helped destroy the world with him, or the blind patient in the hospital bed.

Dean waited impatiently for Sam to wake up but he slept on. Dr. Noha said she'd given Sam some pain medication and combined with the anticonvulsants, he might sleep for hours. Dean found himself dozing as the hours marched on. It was just before dawn when Sam cried out in his sleep and grabbed hold of his arm. Dean was amazed at how Sam knew just where he was. The room was very dark and there was no way that Sam could see him, yet he sensed his presence. Sam immediately settled down back into sleep and Dean was astonished that Sam was still comforted by him being here at all.

Sam finally awakened almost twelve hours later as the dinner cart was wheeled in. Dean could tell he was still groggy from the meds, but he was cheered to see Sam actually wanted to eat. Dean had been helping him sometimes but this time he hesitated. He watched with pride as Sam deftly found the butter and spread it on his bread.

"You know if you could see what that food looks like, you wouldn't even be eating it," Dean began, attempting a joke.

"You want some?" Sam asked, ignoring the remark and holding it out to him.

You want the prize?

Dean was suddenly hit by a flashback of a young Sam offering the prize from the cereal box, his puppy dog eyes staring right into his own, hitting him right in the heart. However, now Sam's eyes still didn't meet his, only glance in his general direction, and it was such a contrast that he cleared his throat to hide his emotion.

"Thanks," Dean said, accepting it and taking a bite.

They chewed quietly for several minutes and Dean watched as Sam grabbed the pitcher on his own this time, filling the glass and grabbing a drink.

"We need to talk, Sam," Dean said finally when most of the dinner was gone.

"I know," Sam said.

"Lately, we haven't been seeing eye to eye," Dean began, but then paused because he wasn't sure how to define lately. Lately involved so many different things: getting the mark, everything he'd done while under its control, the cantina, and now the accident.

"Yeah, it's because I'm blind," Sam deadpanned.

Dean looked up in surprise and then realized his poor choice of words. He chuckled slightly and Sam smirked. It was a much needed moment of brevity between the two of them.

"Sorry," Dean said.

"It's okay. It doesn't bother me," Sam shrugged.

"No, I mean I'm sorry. For everything," Dean began, growing serious. "I'm sorry for the way I've been treating you. I know you only wanted to help. I'm the one who put you in the position to—"

"Screw up?" Sam finished for him. "No Dean, it's my fault. I'm the one who didn't burn the book. I knew there'd be consequences but I still gave the codex and the book to Rowena, even though you told me to shut it down. You were right. Charlie's death is on me. I did bully her. I roped Cas into helping too. Have you even heard from him?"

Dean shook his head.

"Who knows what happened to him, Dean. Rowena could be running around out there and now the darkness is free. This is all on me."

"Sammy, stop. None of that would have happened if I didn't take the mark in the first place. I didn't even think or ask about consequences either, when I decided to brand myself, and now because of me you're blind Sam. I can't accept it."

"Well you have to Dean. I do."

"But why Sam?" Dean said, getting up from his chair and pacing. "You don't deserve it."

"Yeah, I do," Sam said, softly.

"So that's it then? You think it's some sort of punishment," Dean replied, angrily.

"I don't know," Sam began. "Well, yeah, maybe at first that's why I accepted it, but now I think it's different."

"So you are just going to sit there and not fight it?"

"No, Dean. That's not what I'm saying at all. I might not be able to see, but I can see more clearly than ever. Before I was even blinder than I am now, because I made bad choices. Now I want to make things right. I know sometimes we have to make difficult decisions and I don't regret it because the outcome means you're here and…" Sam's voice dropped off as he tried to rein in his emotion.

Dean felt himself get a bit teary eyed too, because despite everything he was proud of Sam, how he had saved him, how he was handling being blind.

"I'm still going to fight no matter what. That's what keeps me going, Dean. That's what helps me accept it," Sam continued. "I can see a bit and who knows, maybe I'll get my vision back completely. Either way though it doesn't matter because I have a job to do and I want to help people. I still want to save people. I meant what I said to you before about you not being anything other than good, and there are still other good people left in the world too."

Dean knew Sam was right. There was Alex who risked his life to save Sam, and of course Dr. Noha who had helped immensely.

"I saw something Dean, too, not with my eyes, but with my mind," Sam added.

"You mean a vision?" Dean asked, startled. Sam was confirming his fears.

"You know?" Sam asked surprised.

"I just knew you had to be seeing something. It happened before we got to the hospital too. Do you think it's a vision?"

"Yeah, it's like that but somehow it's different."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. I mean the flashes of what I saw were scary, and there was violence and chaos. Yet in the middle of it all, there's something else there. Something bigger."

"What?"

"I'm not sure, Dean but I don't think it's evil. It's trying to help."

"I'll guess we'll just add that to our ever growing to do list of stuff to figure out along with the darkness."

"Yeah," Sam said solemnly.

"I'm glad you're here Sammy," Dean said at last. "I'm sorry I ever made you think otherwise."

"I'm glad you are too and I am truly sorry for everything too," Sam replied. "I think we can defeat the darkness if we work together. You know, you and me against the world, not against each other?"

Dean nodded.

"Are you nodding in agreement because it's kind of hard to tell," Sam said, wryly.

"I am," Dean admitted. "It's going to take some getting used to."

"Yeah," Sam agreed and they both knew it wasn't just the blindness they were talking about. They needed to be a team again.

The room grew quiet, each brother lost in his own thoughts.

"The stars are really bright tonight," Dean said, finally, breaking the silence. "Wish you could see them."

"Describe them to me," Sam said.

"Well there's the group that looks like a spoon…the dipper or whatever you called it."

"Is it big or small?"

"It's big, and the stars are so clear and bright, that it's like they're right in front of us."

"So you're looking at the big dipper, part of Ursa Major."

"Yeah," Dean said quietly.

"You know, Dean?"

"What?"

"I can see them, thanks to you."

Dean watched Sam's eyes sparkle as Sam continued to describe the constellations as Dean explained each star in vivid detail. He knew despite their loss, that not all was gone. Dean felt they could now fight the darkness, had been touched so deeply by it, that they intrinsically spoke its language. There was still light, despite the darkness around them, despite what was behind Sam's eyes. Sam's inner brightness glowed as potent as the stars, as the sun, and allowed a tiny seed of hope to begin to bloom within him.

The End

End Notes: I know some readers might not be happy that Sam is still technically blind. I decided that this was the right choice for this story because not everything can be tied up neatly in the end. Also, remember Sam can see some light in the darkness, both literally and figuratively and that's what matters. He might get his vision back completely or he might not which is open for interpretation. However, hope is kind of the whole point. Thank you for reading!