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Chapter Text

---Missouri---

Sam groaned as Dean filled up the midnight black Impala. The elder hunter bobbed his head to the song that he was humming. Sam was watching him through the back windscreen and chuckled as his brother head banged to his own music. Minutes ticked by as the tall man gazed out the window at the road running alongside the gas station while waiting for his brother. His arm was leant up against the frame of the door. Bright sunlight poured in through the glass casting against Sam's tanned skin. Noticing something different, he peered down at his forearm. The skin looked discoloured and a different texture than usual on a patch of skin which surrounded a small dark mole.

Frowning, Sam ran a finger over the skin. He bit at the side of his mouth and resolved to keep an eye on the strange patch to see if it went. He was mentally muddling through his medical knowledge when Dean collapsed back into the driver's seat with a smirk.

"Everything alright, dude?" Dean asked after taking in his brother's thoughtful expression.

"What? Um, nothing." He shifted in his seat letting his right arm fall to his side self-consciously. "You ready to go?

Dean didn't answer. The hunter just smirked again and revved the engine in reply. The pride Dean had in his car made Sam roll his eyes but a small smile ghosted across his lips anyway.

As soon as the car had pulled out onto the road, Dean pushed in a cassette and loudly sung along to the words. The younger Winchester couldn't help the chuckle that came from deep in his throat. Sam scratched at his arm, subconsciously. At least Dean couldn't hear him laughing at his enthusiasm over the blaring ACDC.

---3 weeks later- Frankfort, Kentucky.---

The steam filled the bathroom as Sam let the hot water flow over his tense body. His muscles uncurled as the warming water relaxed his aches. He ran his fingers through his hair and watched the bubbles from his shampoo cascade down his chest and onto the floor of the small shower. The water was beginning to go cold making Sam sigh and silently curse motel showers. Making sure the soap was gone, he stepped from the shower and wrapped himself in one of the scratchy towels that hung from the metal bar.

He peered at himself in the mirror despite the condensation that was misting up the reflection. An angry red mark caught his eye. The hunter furrowed his brow as he stared at the reflection of himself before looking down at his actual arm. The dark mole on his right arm had become a little larger and certainly more angry looking. It itched slightly as the man looked down at it, almost as though it was demanding the hunter's attention. The man sighed, he really didn't want to deal with this right now.

He dried himself off and stepped through to the cold bedroom, where he quickly got dressed while hiding his arm, not wanting to worry Dean. He dressed and collapsed into his chair exhausted. Their most recent hunt had really taken it out of him. Pulling his laptop across the table to him with a sigh, he quickly googled local walk in clinics and scrolled through the options. He realised that dealing with it would probably be better than just ignoring it.

He glared down at his arm through the material of his hoodie. I'm sure it's nothing, he thought to himself, just inflammation and a rash. I'll go to the doctor, they'll send me away with some cream, Dean will mock me for worrying and everything will be fine.

He glanced over at his brother who was muttering to himself while cleaning a gun. He peered back at the website hesitantly. He chewed his dry lip as he studied the words and directions to the clinic.

"Look, Sam. If you're feeling guilty about watching porn just remember that they are all... Usually, over the age of 18 and are willing participants." Dean had seen Sam looking at the screen with slight worry on his face. He had leapt to the wrong conclusion. A very very wrong conclusion.

Sam coughed awkwardly, "Yeah."

---3 weeks later.- Washington DC.---

Sam? -DW

Answer me. -DW

Where are you? -DW

For God's sake, Sam. Answer me Damnit! -DW

Yeah?- SW

Sam replied to the texts as he left the walk in clinic's large glass automatic sliding doors. His palms were sweaty, making it hard to grasp his phone. He strode away from the doctor's and was just slipping his phone back into his pocket when it vibrated, signalling a new message.

Where the hell are you? -DW

Sam shot a glance over his shoulder at the medical building before sighing and texting back. He saw no reason to worry his over protective elder brother so lied.

I just went for coffee. Got lost. I'm on my way back now -SW

He suddenly realised that he'd have to add validity to his lie by stopping at a coffee place of some kind. His eyes glanced up and down the street. A relieved smiled played on his lips when he saw a large Starbucks at the end of the street. Luckily for him, it was still relatively early so the line to purchase the drinks was small and the shop was quiet.

Sam took off quickly after buying the coffee. He'd need to get a move on so he could get back in good time. He had to pass in front of the clinic again on his way back to their motel. The doctor's words played around in his head, Possibly cancerous... Tests needed... Find out and catch it...

Sam sighed again. The doctor's appointment hadn't gone well. It wasn't nearly as simple as he had desperately hoped. If she was right then the mole on his arm could be possibly cancerous which he'd really being praying that it wouldn't be. He'd been called back to the clinic tomorrow for 'further tests'. Sam certainly didn't like the sound of that. It made his stomach flip nervously.

He swallowed and made his way back to the motel while an unsettled feeling took root in his stomach.

---A week later- Springfield, Illinois.---

Sam's phone rang loudly in the quiet room making him jump. Dean glanced over at his brother with a raised eyebrow. The younger hunter flashed an apologetic smile before rummaging around in his suit's inner pocket for his phone. He dug around for his cell, pushing past his FBI badge. Dean looked over at him with an impatient frown. The disapproval was rolling off the older Winchester in obvious waves.

The number that appeared up upon the small screen made Sam's stomach drop. The number was one that he had accidentally memorised while reading the clinic's information leaflet again and again. He blinked at his cell phone.

"Umm, do mind if I...get this?" The crying woman in front of them looked mildly baffled but nodded nonetheless. With a grateful smile Sam began to flea from the room.

Dean's eyes followed his brother as he quickly left the room in the large house. He coughed and apologised for his colleagues departure.

Sam stepped out onto the large porch before he lifted the phone to his ear. He answered the questions and asked his own. After a few minutes, his face dropped. He let out a shaky breath.

Children ran passed the house while throwing a ball to and fro. Bright smiles dominated their small faces as their high pitched laughs echoed around the small neighbourhood. Sam's heart landed in his belly as he watched the children play. He was only partly paying attention to the woman on the other end of the phone call. He quickly wrapped up the call, thanking the woman for her time. Sam wiped a hand down his face. He could feel the paleness that occupied his cheeks. He deeply breathed in the crisp cool air in a desperate attempt to wash away the dizziness.

After a few minutes, he slowly stepped back into the house. He steadied his breathing before slipping back into the living room where the sobbing victim was sat in front of an uncomfortable looking Dean. Everyone knew that comforting a sobbing person, male or female, was not Dean's forte. The elder brother glanced over his shoulder as Sam entered the room. The lines in the elder man's face relaxed as relief flooded over him. At least now Sam could now take over the comforting.

Dean cut the woman off, "Everything alright, agent?" His eyes carried a slight unexpected concern. Sam must have looked worse than he had previously anticipated.

"I'll speak with you later."

Sam didn't speak with Dean later.

---2 weeks later- Washington DC.---

It hadn't been hard for Sam to get his brother back to Washington. He'd briefly researched a possible case as soon as he had gotten back to the motel. He had then exaggerated all the points to grab Dean's attention despite the fact that, the case would actually be a rather boring one. Nothing more than a salt and burn at best. The spirit hadn't even been causing any real trouble.

He had his first appointment with the hospital early that morning. Dean was still asleep, exhausted from the long drive the day before when Sam had slipped out the motel, not even leaving a note.

It was an action plan, that's what the doctor called it anyway. To Sam it just made it seem like he was about to rage war against his own body which felt wrong seeing that it was usually things outside of his body that he had to fight. The doctor sat with him planning out the stages of his treatment. It vaguely reminded him of preparing for a particularly dangerous hunt. He couldn't decide whether that was a good or bad thing.

The appointment lasted longer than he had anticipated so wasn't surprised when his phone had began to vibrate in his pocket every few minutes. Despite the fact the phone was on silent, the buzzing still crackled through the air annoying both men. Every time the vibrating started up again the doctor sent a pissed off look down at Sam's leg where the phone was stored.

"Do you mind if I quickly just tell him where I am?" Sam asked hopefully. The hunter knew that the doctor was actually grateful that Sam was stopping the buzzing distraction. The doctor nodded with sympathy in his eyes.

Sam didn't want his sympathy. He didn't need it. The doctor seemed surprised when Sam ducked outside the appointment room to call his brother back but he didn't say anything about it.

Sam sighed, which he'd been doing increasingly a lot recently, before lifting the mobile device to his ear, "Dean?"

"What is it with you and Washington, dude?" Sam could still hear the sleep still lying in Dean's voice.

"What?" Sam's voice was hushed.

"Whenever we're in Washington you always disappeared during the night! Do you have a chick here or something because, dude, you don't have to sneak out. Just tell me." Dean still sounded tired and Sam was tempted to tell him to go back to sleep.

"Dean, I don't know what you're on about." Sam whispered down his phone. People looked up at him as they hurried passed him in the corridor. They all seemed to have places to go or people to see. None of them were just taking their time and enjoying just being. This is one of the things that Sam hated about hospitals, despite being surrounded by death, nobody in there seemed to appreciate life.

"Why're you whispering?" Sam could imagine the confused crease in Dean's tanned brow.

The younger man haltered a second, "I'm in church."

"You?! Church?!" The laughing was loud and annoying in the quiet environment of the hospital corridor.

"Look, I've gotta go. See you later." Sam hung up without waiting for a reply.

Chapter Text

---Three weeks later-Washington DC.---

The sound of Sam being violently sick in the bathroom pulled Dean out of of his peaceful slumber and crashing into reality. His dream about hunting down flying demons with angel wings was quickly forgotten as the sound of his brother heaving up nothing filled his ears. He was surprised that Sam could actually be sick since he hardly ever managed to eat anything these days but Dean had no idea why. The younger Winchester had grown paler over the last couple of weeks, his appetite was practically non-existent and he was always leaving the motel when Dean was sleeping to return over an hour later claiming to have been collecting coffee.

Dean grumbled to himself as he climbed out of the warm bed and onto his bare feet. Maybe this was the root of Sam's constant bitchiness? Maybe he's been feeling ill recently and I've done nothing to help him. A wave of guilt washed over the man as he stood silently next to his bed, unsure of what move to make next.

The smell of coffee was filling the room so Dean's eyes scanned the area until he saw the polystyrene cups that were steaming with the hot liquid. From this, Dean deduced that his brother had only just returned from his usual early morning coffee run before collapsing in front of the toilet to purge his guts out. The elder brother winced in sympathy for his sibling. Erch, poor guy, he thought.

The hunter shuffled over to the door and hesitated before knocking against the wood. He heard his brother jump making him feel even more guilty. He grimaced before calling out to the sick man, "Hey, Sammy? Are you okay?"

There was a short period of silence from the man, who had his head hunched over the toilet bowl, as he tried to control his breathing.

"Sammy?" He leant against the door almost as if trying to get closer to the long haired man.

There was another heave before a weak answer, "Yeah, fine."

He rolled his eyes even though Sam couldn't see him. He knew when his brother was lying and the fact that Sam was actually vomiting made the evidence suggest that the young man was bending the truth.

"Why you being sick then?"

There was a brief hesitation as Sam tried to think up a believable lie which made Dean raise a brow, "…Probably something that I ate."

"You barely eat anything, Sam." He couldn't help the sigh that fell from his lips. He really didn't want to get into another argument but he needed the truth.

"Well, obviously, what I did eat wasn't good." There was a sharpness to the tall man's voice that had started to become more and more common. That annoyed Dean a lot.

"Well, if you're fine then I guess I'll just leave you to it!" The elder snapped through the door bitterly before turning on his heel to go and get dressed.

Sam let out a shaky breath as Dean backed away from the door. His trembling hands gripped the toilet seat again as a wave of dizziness made the room around him spin. He leant his hot cheek down against the cold seat of the toilet and tried to make it pass. He really didn't care for hygiene at the moment instead his focus was on not bringing up his internal organs in dry heaves.

He decided, in that very moment, that he truly hated the side effects of Chemotherapy.

---Three weeks later- Washington DC.---

The sound of the shower running allowed Dean to finally breathe. A short escape of his little brother was all he needed. Dean felt as though he was walking on eggshells whenever they engaged in even the smallest of conversation. The young hunter had been acting strange recently but Dean couldn't pin down the reason. For one, the tall man had gone out on Tuesday morning and hadn't returned until very late Wednesday night so late that it was almost drifting into morning. He hadn't been too concerned because Sam had told him that he was doing research in the library then hitting a bar. Dean had assumed that maybe the man had met a girl in the bar and gone to her house. It wasn't in Sam's usual behaviour but he couldn't complain as he was always telling the workaholic that he needed to relax and have some fun.

He'd turned up the night after looking pale and slipped into bed straight away even though he was still wearing his jeans and baggy hoodie. This concerned the elder hunter but let it slid as Sam obviously wasn't up for conversation. Dean didn't see Sam without that hoodie until over a week later.

His brother kept disappearing during the night and very rarely left a note. Sometimes up to three times in one week Dean would awake to find Sam's bed empty. Although, whenever Dean would wake up throughout the night Sam was nearly always curled up in his bed asleep or at least pretending to be. Dean wasn't stupid, this lead him to believe that his baby brother was leaving the motel early in the morning to go somewhere. Despite his efforts, Sam wouldn't tell the elder man where he was going even though Dean could see straight through the lies.

Dean jumped as Sam's cell suddenly began to vibrate against the plastic of the table which brought him out of his thoughts. He raised an eyebrow slightly. Recently Sam hadn't been letting the phone from his sight. He always had it on him or in his hand.

The phone continued to vibrate until he was unable to resist temptation any longer so the elder Winchester flipped the phone around and peered at the number on the screen. It wasn't Bobby or anyone he knew. He didn't recognise the number. His eyes flashed up at the bathroom door. On hearing the water still running, he picked the phone up and clicked the green answer button.

"Mr Green?" The voice on the other end was friendly making Dean frown. Who on earth had Sam been talking to while on cases and being all secretive about, Dean mused.

"Umm, Yeah?" Dean answered careful to keep his voice down.

"We have to move tomorrows appointment with Dr Jemm." The voice spoke clearly obviously spending a lot of time talking on the phone.

Appointment? What? Dean blinked in shock. What has Sammy been keeping from me now?

"Mr Green? Sam? Are you there?"

"Um, yeah. Yeah. Sorry."

"Okay. Well, you were penciled in for Chemotherapy at 10am but we're going have have to move it back. Would you be available at 2pm?"

Dean's throat closed up,"Chemotherapy?" The word hit him like a sledgehammer. The hunter suddenly felt extremely dizzy and nausea formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Sam? Are you okay?" The voice continued when Dean didn't answer. "I know it can be hard hitting but we've got to try and stop it before it progresses."

"Yeah. Yeah... I get it. Don't worry. I'll... Be there for 2." Dean stumbled over his answer.

"Okay. Thank you, Mr Green." The woman hung up.

Dean froze. The conversation crashing over his head like a tsunami. He gripped the cell phone tightly in his hand. He heard the shower shut off and he leapt to his feet. He dropped the cell phone onto the table oblivious to the large thump it caused.

He stared at the door that separated him from his ill baby brother. His mind raced. Questions flooded his head and his throat grew increasingly tight. Sam had kept this a secret from him. This cancer. His mind spat the word as though it was unworthy of his breath.

Moments later, Sam pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He shivered slightly as the cold air attacked his heated skin. He shot a small smile at his brother and started pulling clothes from his duffle bag.

"Sam." Dean choked out while staring at his brother's thin back. He hadn't been eating much recently. Puzzle pieces were falling painfully into place in his mind.

Sam glanced over his shoulder at his older brother, "Yeah?"

"..." The silence stretched and Sam looked expectantly at Dean.

"What is it?" Sam furrowed his brows as concern clouded his features.

His voice frozen, Dean was just able to choke out, "They've moved your appointment."

Sam's eyes widened as he caught sight of the cell phone on the small table. His mouth dropped open but words refused to come out. Dean stared at him and his brother stared back. Even unable to breathe, shock glued Sam to his spot on the dirty green carpet.

Tears seemed to pool in Dean's eyes yet his masculinity refused to let even one spill over. He had to hold his lips stiff and Sam collapsed back onto the bed exhausted. The younger brother rubbed his eyes wearily. He should have known better than to try and hide something like this.

---Two weeks later- Washington DC.---

"Are you sure about this?" Dean leant over his brother's shoulder where he sat in the chair.

Sam nodded firmly, "It's already starting to fall out in places. Might as well get rid of it."

Dean looked into Sam's eyes through the bathroom mirror. Despite his attempts to remain cheery there was a sadness in his baby brother's eyes which painfully squeezed around his heart.

Sam spoke again with a slight chuckle, "You are always begging me to cut it off anyway."

Dean tried to laugh but deep down he really didn't want Sammy to lose the hair that made him so unique. He bit his lip and peered down at the electric shaver in his hands. He was slightly surprised that he wasn't shaking. He really didn't want to do this. He didn't want to cut of the hair that Sam had always argued so hard to keep. It made it all seem so real.

The reality that his brother had cancer hadn't dawned on him when he accompanied him to the Chemotherapy session the day after he found out nor when his brother had vomited up whole meals. The realisation came like a tonne of bricks when Sam awoke and had to gather the strands of hair from his pillow before going for a shower.

The tall man's hairbrush almost seemed to have it's own hair-do with the amount of chocolate brown pieces of hair it had tangled in it's bristles. Dean was almost angry at it for stealing the strands from his baby brother but he knew it was ridiculous so chased the thoughts away.

"Okay. You ready?" Dean held the shaver up.

Sam smiled reassuringly. Shouldn't it be me doing the reassuring? Dean thought to himself.

The vibration from the device shook Dean's arms making his fingers tingle. He breathed in, getting more air to his lungs before pulling the shaver up from the bottom of Sam's hair line, up over the crown of his baby brother's head and towards the forehead.

Long brown locks fell to the floor. A few strands got caught on his shoulders, seemingly holding desperately onto their sick owner. Dean just brushed them away quickly, not wanting to make the experience any more traumatic. Although, he doubted that in Sam's head the strands of hair were holding on. Sam was always more logical than him.

Sam didn't know whether Dean noticed him close his eyes as the single tear fled from his water line but if he did, he was grateful that he didn't mention it.

Within a matter of minutes he was done. Dean stood close behind his brother with a steady hand on the younger's shoulder. He felt as guilty as though he had just shot a puppy. He briefly wondered why they wouldn't have paid someone to do it but knew that this was a private moment for Sam.

He studied his brother's reflection. Without his frame of dark hair he looked smaller. The dark bruises caused by lack of sleep now violently contrasted the pale of Sam's skin. His hazel eyes were wet but he smiled at his elder brother. Sam didn't look at himself in the mirror. He didn't know if he could.

---3 weeks later- Washington DC.---

Sam tucked himself further under the blanket as chills racked throughout his thin frame. The smell of the musty motel plagued his senses distracting him from his train of thought. The tiredness ached in his bones but he knew it'd probably be gone tomorrow since some days were better than others. The headache made him squeeze his eyes closed against the constant throbbing in his frontal lobe. Today was definitely a bad day without a doubt. He wanted to scold himself for being so pathetic but he didn't even have the energy required for that. He really was exhausted.

He could hear the distant rumble of the Impala and focused on the sound like it was a lifeline as it got closer and closer. He sighed slightly relieved to have his brother finally back. The pain was beginning to get too much. He needed the painkillers. What had taken Dean so long anyway?

His head flopped back against the lumpy motel pillow. He could hear Dean scrabbling with the door key outside, he would get up and help him but it felt as through he hadn't slept in months and it probably didn't help that his body didn't want to eat.

The sudden stream of light, which penetrated the dark room as Dean opened the door, annoyed the ill man. He groaned and pulled the duvet over his bald head.

Dean stripped himself of his old leather jacket as the heat of the room enveloped him like a claustrophobic hug that clung to your skin. It was like a tropical rain forest as it was so hot. He pulled his sleeves up in an attempt to cool down his rapidly over heating flesh.

"Sam?" Dean asked hesitantly unsure to whether his brother was asleep.

"Mmm?" He mumbled back through the thin blanket.

"Oh, you're wake?"

"I'm exhausted but can't sleep." He pulled his head from under the duvet but kept his shoulders underneath in what little heat he had created,"Also really cold, Dean."

The elder strode over to his brother's bedside and placed a warm hand on Sam's forehead. It was one of the side effects of his treatment. He often had to wear thick jumpers even when it was hot and layer upon layer when he went to bed. Today was no different, the temperature of Sam's head chilled Dean's heated hand.

"I know it's cold." Dean tried to comfort his baby brother by lying. He didn't want to make Sam feel so alone during his battle. "Do you need anything?"

Sam nodded, "Water please."

Dean looked and cursed himself for not noticing Sam's empty glass when he first got inside. I'm doing a piss poor job at playing doctor, he grumbled to himself. He quickly refilled the glass and held it to his brother's lips while handing over two strong painkillers.

Sam withheld a sigh and took the water from his sibling, getting tired of being babied. He slipped the cool water slowly enjoying the relief it offered to his rasping throat. He placed the water on his bedside table with weak arms and almost seemed satisfied with the achievement.

"Found any cases?" Sam asked hopefully while returning his thin arm to under the thin blanket.

"Sam..." Concern and warning mixed in his tone. This wasn't the first time that Sam had raised the question of a case.

"No Dean. I'll be alright and if I'm feeling better then I'll come along with you." Sam smiled as he lent back against his pillows. Recently, he had been harassing Dean to carry on and keep hunting to very little avail. The most the elder had managed was to pick up a newspaper everyday for Sam to search though for cases. He had quickly rejected any that would mean leaving Sam for any significant length of time.

Dean dropped the local newspaper on the side of Sam's bed while he went to place everything he had brought into the kitchen area. From behind him he could hear Sam flicking through the inked pages.

Dean glanced around the small motel room. If Sam had actually told him about the Cancer at the beginning then maybe he could have rented a bigger room. It would have given the sick man more privacy and space. This small area had become their base. They'd not been back on the road since the beginning of Sam's treatment instead they'd rooted themselves here in Washington. It felt strange to be settled in one place but Dean knew that treatment would be impossible if they were still on the move so remained grounded. He kept all moaning and complaining to a minimum as he knew that Sam already felt guilty for trapping his brother here like a bird in small cage.

Packets of medicines and painkillers were lined up on the counter top. Dirty dishes sat in and surrounding the metal sink just waiting to be cleaned. Untouched meals were on a few of those plates since Sam had lost his appetite and Dean couldn't bring himself to eat what his brother couldn't stomach. Salt lines were still in place on the windows and doors as their protection hadn't gone completely forgotten. After all, they were still hunters at their core.

Dean pulled out more painkillers from his bag and placed them in the collection which was growing large enough to stock a small pharmacy but he knew he'd need them as Sam was consuming them like tictacs. He pulled a few tins of soup from his grocery bag and slid them into the cupboards under the worktop.

A groan filled the air making Dean turn quickly to check on his baby brother. Sam had his pale fingers covering his lips as a wave of nausea caught him off guard. Dean doubted that there would actually be much for the young man to throw up as over 3 quarters of Sam's latest meal was on the bedside table, where it was beginning to stick to the plate.

Rushing to his brother's side, Dean picked the trashcan up from the floor by the bed and thrust it in front of Sam. The taller man hung his head over the bucket but with steady breathing and determination, was able to keep it down, much to both their relief.

He rubbed small circles on Sam's back in an attempt to comfort the shaking man. It was getting worse and Dean knew it even though Sam tried desperately to hide his pain from his brother.

"Maybe you should get some sleep?" Dean suggested as he pulled away the trashcan and left it beside the bed.

"Will you look for a case? You know, while I sleep?" Sam's eyes seemed to have almost sunk into his skull. His prominent cheekbones stood out worryingly far.

The elder ran a hand over his brother's bald head fondly and wished that one day he might be able to ruffle Sam's hair again. The missing hair made Sam's face seem longer and thinner. It also made him lose something that made him distinctly Sam. Dean couldn't work out whether that was to do with how the baldness made Sam look or with how cutting the precious locks had made Sam change emotionally.

"Of course." His agreement allowed Sam to settle back down onto the pillows clearly exhausted and gently drift off into unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

---Two days later- Washington DC.---

Sam fiddled with a loose thread that came from the arm of his baggy hoodie as the midnight black Impala rumbled into the parking lot outside the large hospital. They drove around for a few minutes until they found a parking spot close enough to the front doors. Dean pulled to a steady stop before glancing across at his baby brother who was peering up at the large building while chewing his lip.

The young man turned to see Dean staring at him and blushed embarrassed, "You don't have to come…" He almost whispered into the silence that occupied the car.

Sam had refused to let Dean come in to many of his Chemotherapy sessions so far but now he was too weak to attend alone so needed his brother's help. Dean had gone along to only two or three and those were the days when Sam was too weak and exhausted which made him scared of collapsing.

"You don't want me to come?" Dean tried to remain impassive but it pained him to think that Sam didn't want him.

"No, I do. I do." He leapt to quickly correct him. He shivered as the constant cold caused goosebumps to erupt onto his flesh. He pulled himself further into what little heat his body was producing. Dean watched as his once massive brother seemed to shrink in size until he looked half the man he was.

"Okay then. You ready?" The elder asked hesitantly.

Sam nodded before pushing the door open with a loud huff that wasn't quite covered by the squeaking of the car door. He stepped onto the tarmac with weak legs that almost buckled beneath him so he lent against the car but tried to hide his slight shaking from his brother. He cursed his weakness and inability to keep down anything of substance.

He flashed a smile on his face when Dean looked over at him. He knew that it was a fake smile and he knew that his brother knew that it was a fake smile but he kept it in place nonetheless. He moved to be beside his brother and they began the walk up to the large building that was made mostly of glass. Dean slowed his usual pace to accommodate the sick man's lack of energy despite Sam's desperate attempts to keep up and act normal. The tall man strived to pretend that all is well and that he wasn't sick. The act was beginning to grate on Dean as his brother's performance meant that he could very rarely accurately assess the man's condition.

Sam tried to hide it as his breath became more laboured and he tried not to pant. Even the smallest activity was taking it out of him and it wasn't even one of his really bad days. The older man tried to slow the pace even more but Sam stubbornly refused to walk any other pace than 'normal'.

They eventually made it to the sliding doors of the hospital and Sam hesitated on the threshold almost glaring at the shiny floor on the other side. He really just wanted to be better. Erch, I hate hospitals, he groaned to himself.

Sam led the way up to the familiar ward as Dean was still slightly unsure of the direction. Nurses and doctors briefly smiled at them as the rushed passed in the corridors, none of which had time to stop. Dean watched the staff hurrying from one patient to the next like worker bees in an overcrowded hive. His eyes dashed around as the intense action moved all around him. He couldn't imagine the hospital being silent for even a minute as it seemed too far of a contrast to how it was usually. Sam on the other hand walked forward with his eyes set on the end of the corridor where the double doors where. He didn't spare a glance at the familiar faces or routines that were taking place around him. He walked forward with properties usually reserved for zombies or the living dead.

His usual hopefulness and cheer had seemed to be drained by the long corridors and shiny floors. He wasn't the Sam that Dean was used to or really wanted to see and if he was honest, seeing Sam like this scared him. The young Winchester almost clicked into place once entering the doors, his pale skin matching the stark white walls and his lifelessness akin to those lying in the hospital beds in the rooms near by. It was as if the ill man had switched to hospital mode.

Dean was pulled out of his thoughts by them reaching the grey doors which concealed their final destination. The younger of the men pushed the doors open with practiced ease before stepping inside to where a small reception desk stood in wait.

"Morning, Sam!" Sam offered up a weak smile to the male nurse. He wasn't ready to admit that the long trek from the car had really taken it's toll. He muttered curses at his body's failure to do it's job.

"Hey, Pete. 9am appointment." Sam tried to force normality on himself. He could sense his brother shifting behind him awkwardly.

The male nurse handed over the sign in sheet, "The same as always. Oh and your guest will have to sign in to."

"Of course" Sam smiled before signing the paper and getting Dean to do the same.

"How've you been?" Pete asked with a concerned crease forming in his brow as he accepted back the paper.

"Feeling the side effects but mostly great, thanks." Sam answered quickly before walking over towards the large room that had comfy looking chairs lining the walls. In total there was about 20 spaces in the room and each had a stool next to it for a friend or family member. This made Dean think of all the times Sam had come up alone and had to sit without someone beside him unlike almost every other person one bar one or two. Guilt sank in his stomach. He should have insisted on accompanying his brother instead of waiting in the car.

Most of the people in the Chemotherapy clinic were much older than Sam. It made something knot itself in Dean's stomach as it felt like Sam was being cheated by getting the disease so young. At least the other people here have had half a life, he ranted to himself angrily.

The thin man lowered himself down into one of the pale chairs which Dean assumed was his usual seat. The nurse signalled to him that she'd be one minute before coming over to help as she was seeing to an elderly gentleman. Dean sighed impatient but Sam sat stock still as though he was terrified.

The silence stretched out between the two brothers as both sat wrapped in their own thoughts. The younger chewed at his lip as he sat waiting while thoughts raced through his head. Dean, on the other hand, was carefully studying his brother. He watched as Sam's chest rose and fell slowly in time with his shallow breathing. He stared at his baby brother's bald head and tears threatened to jump down his cheeks but Dean kept them firmly in check, not allowing even one to fall. He had never allowed himself to cry in front of Sam about this, after all, it was his job to be brave and supportive but he had cried almost every night since finding out about it.

"The side effects are the worst part." Sam whispered to so quietly that his brother had to question whether the words were actually meant for him or not.

"What'cha mean, Sammy?" Dean's voice was just as hushed as though he was sharing a secret.

The ill man breathed deeply but remained silent for so long that Dean was sure that he'd get no answer, "Being sick, the dizziness, losing my hair and appetite. It's because of the Chemotherapy."

Dying isn't too great either though, Sam added silently.

Dean nodded even though Sam wasn't looking at him.

The area around the boys lapsed back into silence as they both took in what Sam had said. Dean thought it over before reaching out to hold his brother's cold hand. He opened his mouth to speak when the nurse came to pierce the needle under his baby brother's skin and into a vein. He watched as the drugs began to slowly flow into Sam's weak and thin form. His words seemed meaningless now so he let them die as nothing more than a thought.

---A week later- Washington DC.---

The cold night air nipped at Sam's rosy cheeks. He was thoroughly wrapped up in layers of warm clothes but he could still feel the cold. He desperately tried to ignore it as he just wanted to be fine for a while. He had grown tired of being sick a long time ago and now his patience with the cancer that was riddling his body was wearing extremely thin.

He cradled the beer in his cold hands as he lent back against the windscreen of the Impala. The advice leaflet had advised limiting alcohol consumption which was the opposite of what Sam wanted to do under the circumstances. He sipped the rich liquid as though he was drinking liquid gold and each slip cost him thousands. He wanted to savour what little he was allowed.

The Impala was parked off a side road which was quiet and surrounded by trees. They had driven so far that Sam wasn't even sure that they were still in Washington anymore. Sam hadn't seen a person in the three hours that he had been sat there but he wasn't surprised seeing as it was well gone midnight.

Dean was lying beside him in his familiar worn leather jacket, smelling of gunpowder and whiskey, with his arms folded behind his head. He had his green eyes closed and the way the worry creases had disappeared made Sam think that the elder had fallen asleep. He listened to Dean's soft breathing as he gazed up at the stars.

The stars twinkled like Christmas lights in the midnight sky. Sam took in his fill of the awe inspiring beauty of it because he knew it wouldn't last. The hunter studied the burning balls of gas that were to small to inspect as names of constellations floated around his head. His eyes flowed from one familiar pattern in the dark sky to the next. He wished that he knew the name of every star so he could place them by name amongst it's many siblings. He wished he'd spent more time doing this. Just looking up and appreciating the magnitude of beauty that he'd only acknowledged a handful of times in his whole life that was just above his head.

He could almost feel his time running out in everything around him but yet everything seemed so new to him as he paid it the attention it deserved for the first time. The wind seemed fresh against his cold skin as it whispered against his flesh, chilling him even further. The trees were teased by the wind as it raced past ruffling it's leaves, dislodging a few of the green leafy family members. He'd never paid any interest into the simple things that had always seemed to be there but now they were the most important things on planet Earth. Sam realised that he loved the hallowing wind as it played with the rustling leaves and the stars as they got lost amongst the vast inkiness of the night.

The sound of Dean's gentle breathing accompanied his thoughts making everything seem so alive.

"I don't wanna die, Dean." Sam whispered into the wind as it carried his voice away. "I really don't want to die like this. It's not the way I expected to go."

Nothing answered him but he didn't expect or even want an answer, "I obviously knew that I was going to die, everything does. I just had something supernatural pegged at the reason why… To die in battle, I suppose."

The stars continued twinkling oblivious to Sam, sitting on the hood of his brother's Impala, releasing his fears for the first time into the cold air, billions of miles beneath them. The wind chilled the trail of water on Sam's cheek that was left from a heavy tear.

"I can't fight it. I can't rage a war against myself… Against my own body. I can take on vampires and poltergeists, witches and vengeful spirits but not this- this cancer. It's poisoning my body and I can't stop it." He spat out the name of his disease through his teeth.

Minutes passed as Sam slowed his breathing as he tried to stop the tears, "I don't want to die."

Dean tried not to shift as he waited for his brother to continue talking. He wasn't disappointed when the young man chose to stay silent instead. He kept his breathing shallow and even as he carefully listened to his brother's whispered words. He wished that the freakin' wind would die down so he could let Sam's softly spoken words wrap around him.

---Three weeks later- Lawrence, Kansas.---

Dean's dark work boots sunk into the thick mud that was desperately trying to pass as grass. The heavy rainfall had ruined the grass making it nothing more than practically a marshland. He trod across the waterlogged land as fat raindrops still fell from the sky every now and again. Dean looked up at the dark grey clouds above him and was thankful that it was finally starting to lighten up. He walked along the same path as he had for the last two weeks and it was already engraved into his mind. His weary brain didn't waste energy on taking in his surroundings like he did first, second and even third time that he walked this way. He found that those details didn't really matter to him anymore.

He automatically stopped before he had even realised that he had arrived. His eyes played with the horizon of a line of trees while he could feel emotion lodging itself in his throat. A heavy raindrop landed on his cheek making him suddenly flinch. Another drop of water fell from somewhere above him but this time it missed him. His gaze followed it as it plummeted towards the ground dragged by the cruel gravity which always seemed to be trying to force us down into our graves prematurely.

The drop continued falling, despite having Dean as an audience, until it crashed onto the small black plaque that lay about a foot away from Dean's boots. The ashes of his baby brother lay fresh in the ground beneath the dark slate. The man swallowed as his eyes misted over making it impossible for the hunter to read the inscription, not that he needed to read it. He had chosen it and the amount of times that he had read it meant that it was burnt permanently into his grey cells. The gold lettering was blurred by unshed tears that were threatening to spill over. Not that he could stopped them even if he wanted to.

"I wish I could have saved you, Sammy."

Sam Winchester

Loyal, Brave and Honest. Until we meet again.

5.2.83 - 4.28.08