Prompted for a LiveJournal h/c meme by rainylemons.

THE WAITING

He waited.

Outside the sputtering light, he waited. He appeared to be staring into the house, but that was not the case.

He was staring into the darkness that made up his world.

He waited.

He's heard the purring rumble. He knew that sound. That's 'home'. That's 'love'. That's 'family'.

But it ended just when he came under this light. He knew that meant that whoever drove it is inside.

So he waited.

The light sputtered and the heat from it faded away. He closed his eyes and remembered.

He left the place of pain with one thought - Dean.

And with a pair of nonfunctioning, though – he'd been told - perfectly normal looking eyes.

Strangers have fed him. Clothed him. Helped him get to Cicero.

He kept all their information. He would repay them with such kindness as they've never expected.

But in this house - this was Dean.

And he waited.

His hand closed around the phone a stranger gave to him. He debated again.

And this time, his fingers fumbled for the numbers.

This time, the welcome voice answered cautiously. "Hello?"

This time, the words wouldn't come.

"Hello?"

"...Dean..."

Silence.

"...I'm sorry. I-I'll go..."

"No! No, don't go...is-is it really you?"

He sniffled. "Yeah."

"Where are you? Are you okay?"

"...outside. And...no." He laughed, just once. "Not-not really."

"What's wrong? Outside where?"

"Outside...your house. And...Dean..."

"What?" He could hear footsteps in the phone. Walking fast.

"...I'm blind."

The footsteps broke into a run and the phone disconnected. He let it fall to the ground as he heard the door fly open and the voice he had held onto the memory of bellow "SAM!"

And then there was a swirl of air in his personal space and the warm impact of a body thudding into his. There were arms around his shoulders and his hands were on a waist that was curved just enough to tell of missed meals and a voice just rough enough to tell a story of sleepless nights was sobbing in his ear, "Sammy...Sammy..."

Then calloused hands were on his face, turning it to the warmth of the streetlight that had kicked on again. "We'll get you through this. We'll get your sight back -"

"Can't. Punishment from Hell. Irreversible," he ground out.

A quick hiss of breath. "Then we adapt." The voice was full of grief but of pride. "We adapt and you thrive. You hear me, little brother? You thrive."

"Yes, Dean. You, too."

"Me, too. I can, now. C'mon." And he was being led. Step by step. Toward a warm house and food and love.

But home walked beside him, holding him close as their hearts beat in synch once more.

The wait was over.