Hey all! Here's the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed the story! Please review! I have a lot of different story ideas in the works. I'm not sure which one I want to go with. We'll have to see. I'm tossing about ideas for another visions story (I have vague ideas, nothing concrete yet, muse is stubborn at the moment). I have an idea for another story about Sam's powers (again, AU, which I seem to do a lot of) that I will definitely be writing eventually. I also have an idea (EPIC, I love this idea, can't wait to write it) for a de-aged Sam fic that I am quite excited about, but that might take me a while to write. If you have any questions or suggestions, please tell me and I will happily consider them! :) Thanks! :)

I also made a very small word change in the second chapter because a kind soul pointed out that "Dean" only has one syllable. ...I blame exhaustion. I do. :)

By the way, I know NOTHING about eye surgery (or any surgery for that matter). Everything in this chapter has just been pulled from my mind, so please excuse any inaccuracies. :)


The specialist, Dr. Gilbert, sat back in his chair, a frown on his face, gazing at Sam thoughtfully.

Sam could feel his gaze, despite not being able to see, and fidgeted nervously.

Dean's hand on his knee was subtle but calming. "So?" he asked after a moment.

Dr. Gilbert looked up at Dean. "I think I can help him. If you'll give me an hour to get ahold of a friend of mine, I believe that together we can do a corrective surgery and fix the problem."

Despite all the hope he'd been sustaining and fear he'd been containing, Dean was surprised. It took him a moment to manage. "You can? Really?"

Sam was sitting, wide-eyed, looking in Dr. Gilbert's general direction.

The specialist laughed. "Yes, I believe I can. There's a diner across the street if you'd like to go have a bite to eat. Come back here in about an hour and we'll be ready for you."

"Uh, yeah, yeah, we'll be right back." Dean grabbed Sam's arm, tugging on it lightly. "Come on, Sammy. Let's get."

He held Sam's arm subtly as they manuevered through the office and headed outside.

"Can you believe it, Sammy? The doc says he can fix this."

Sam was frowning though and Dean sighed. "What now?"

"Dean...something felt off in there. I mean...the doctor...I don't know. Something was off."

Dean snorted. "Sam, you were nervous as heck. I didn't notice anything off, kiddo." He reached across the table and patted Sam's hand. "Sammy, trust me, it'll all be okay. This specialist really seems to know what he's doing and in a few hours, you'll be able to see my gorgeous mug again."

The joke worked and Sam rolled his eyes, fighting a smile. "Crap, in that case, maybe we should call the specialist back and just say I'm not interested!"

Dean groaned, mock-hurt. "Oh, I'm hurt by that, Sammy. That's not very nice. Here I spent so much time getting all primped and proper for you and you don't even want to see this."

"I suppose you're just too much pretty for one man, Dean." Sam managed through his laughter, his sarcasm clear in his tone.

Dean grinned. "That I am, Sammy, that I am. I suppose you're not half bad yourself there, kiddo."

Sam snorted. "Gee, thanks. You're too kind."

The waitress walked up to their table. "Sorry for the wait, gentlemen, what can I get for you?"

...

Dean walked Sam back into the doctor's office, where Dr. Gilbert was standing with another man, waiting for them.

Dr. Gilbert gestured to his friend, who shook Dean's hand, then managed to shake Sam's hand as well with a little difficulty. "I'm Dr. Smith. Nice to meet you both. This is our patient?" he asked.

Dr. Gilbert nodded. "Yes, that's Sam Black. He just suddenly went blind, totally out of the blue." The two shared a look that Dean wasn't quite sure how to interpret and Dr. Gilbert nodded briefly to his friend, who gave a tiny jerk of his head towards Dean. "Sam, I'm gonna take you through these doors into the back of the office. We have a very nice set-up back there. Even more comfortable than a hospital."

Sam nodded. Fear was clear in his eyes for his big brother to see.

Dean grabbed his arm. "You'll be okay, Sammy. I'll be right out here in the waiting room, okay? It'll be all good. See ya on the other side, kiddo."

Sam pulled Dean into a hug that Dean returned fiercely. "Promise?"

Dean struggled to speak past the lump of emotion in his throat. Crap, kiddo. "Yeah. I promise."

Sam turned towards the two doctors. Dr. Gilbert nodded briefly at Dean, then led Sam through the doors.

Dean sat down and settled in for a long wait.

...

Sam laid down on the cold table, trying to keep his fear at bay. Surrounded by strange noises and unseen equipment, the doctor's soft voices, it was all quite frightening.

"Okay, Sam. I'm going to put you under now. Just relax and count back from 10."

"10..."

It'll be okay. Dean promised.

"9..."

It'll be okay.

"8..."

Dean promised.

"7..."

Dean.

"...6..."

Sam remembered no more.

...

Should it be taking this long? How long would this crap normally take? Is it going well? Crap. Crap.

Dean paced back and forth in the waiting room, his pace rather frantic.

He was pretty sure he was making the receptionist sick with all his repetitive motions.

He was having a hard time caring.

Come on, Sammy. Come on.

The doors swung open and Dean froze.

Dr. Gilbert and Dr. Smith both came through, Dr. Gilbert a step behind his friend.

They looked grim. Tired.

Dean felt his heart drop, taking a step towards them. No. No. Sammy...

Then Dr. Smith smiled. "Your brother is very stubborn. He pulled through, it went well. We'll have to wait till he wakes up to see if it worked, but my hopes are high."

Dr. Gilbert nodded.

"If you'd like I can show you to the room Sam's resting in. He should wake in the next couple of hours."

...

It was the longest two hours of Dean's life. Though he felt some measure of relief that Sam was alive and breathing, within arm's reach, he still felt nervous.

Had the surgery worked?

Was Sam going to get his sight back?

Please. Help it to have worked. Please don't make me a liar. I promised him everything will be okay. I promised.

Dean was pulled from his musings when Sam shifted slightly, an almost inaudible moan falling from his lips.

"Sammy? Come on, man, time to join the land of the living. Wakey, wakey."

Sam's eyes moved beneath his lids.

"Sam."

They fluttered open.

Dean stared at Sam. The moment of truth. He didn't even realize that he was holding his breath.

"Hey, beautiful." Sam croaked.

Dean froze.

Sam grinned.

Dean's eyes widened. "Sammy? You can..."

Sam nodded. "Bright and clear. Crap, it's good to see you, man!"

Dean pulled Sam into a hug, whooping loudly as soon as he released his baby brother. "Told you I looked all pretty today." Dean joked.

"Well...no offense, but you're not my type."

Dean pouted, but he couldn't hold the look and his face soon split into a wide grin. He strode over to the door. "Hey, doc! It worked! Sam's awake and he can see!"

A moment later, Dr. Smith came striding in. "Dr. Gilbert had a family emergency. He had to run."

The man smiled at Sam. "Well, Sam. Let's take a look."

Dr. Smith did a quick check up, quickly announcing everything right with the youngest Winchester.

"Well, Mr. Black. I see no reason why you can't go." Dr. Smith informed the two brothers.

Dean clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Let's get then, Sammy!"

...

Sam walked towards the car, his brother at his side, his eyes roaming around, taking everything in. After so long of nothing but blackness, the colors and shapes and light just all seemed so bright and so much...

Sam was fairly sure he had never been happier to see the Impala than he was right then. Home sweet home. He sighed contentedly.

Dean slammed his own door shut, turning the car on, switching the music on, already tapping his fingers with the beat.

Sam glanced in the side mirror, noticing Dr. Smith standing at the door watching them leave. He stiffened suddenly.

Dean noticed the movement.

"What? Sam? You okay?" he sounded instantly concerned.

"I...yeah, I just...I could have sworn I just saw Smith's eyes go yellow."

Dean gave him a concerned look. "Yellow?"

"Yeah."

"What? You think it was a demon?"

Sam frowned, shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe?"

"It must have been your imagination. I mean. Come on, Sam. How many demons have yellow eyes? And why would a demon help you get your sight back? That doesn't even make any sense. You're probably still high on those drugs the doc gave you." Dean teased, turning his attention back to the road.

Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to the front of the car, but his mind was still spinning over what he had seen. Yeah, a demon wouldn't help me get my eyesight back. Unless...unless I'm worth more to them whole.

Sam shook his head, forcing the grim thoughts to the back of his mind. Dean's right. I'm probably still high.

Sam snorted.

At least I hope I am.