Chapter Text
“‘You done?” Sam nodded, leaning his head on the toilet bowl, and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Drink” Dean said and handed a water bottle to Sam. Sam quickly shook his head, turning a little greener from just the thought of it. “Sam, at least rinse your mouth— you’ve been puking your guts out for twenty minutes”
“Fine” Sam rasped out, but he didn’t make any move to grab the bottle from Dean, only turning his head slightly enough that Dean could bring the bottle to his chapped lips. Dean was careful to not waterboard the kid, only letting the bottle tip enough for Sam to get a little sip. Sam rinsed his mouth before spitting the water into the toilet and leaning his forehead back onto his hands. Dean wanted to do something— rub his back, hold him and tell him that it was going to be okay, take Sam’s pain away, just something that would stop his trembling little brother from looking and feeling so sick. But there was nothing Dean could do other than to sit with Sam. Touching the kid could go badly if Sam was aching in his entire body— it was something their dad never seemed to grasp. When Sam was in as much pain as he was in currently he couldn’t handle being touched, saying that it felt like someone was stabbing him with a thousand needles wherever they laid their hands. John never could stop himself from rubbing a hand over Sam’s back when he got like this, and it almost always ended with Sam crying for him to stop. So Dean used all this willpower to just sit by and be ready to step in when Sam let him.
“Fuck” was all Sam managed to utter before he gagged again, and threw up once more. At that point he had thrown up all the liquid and the NG food he had in his stomach. At least if Sam let Dean help him get some water down, he could have something other than acid to throw up... “Dean. My.. my tube” Dean snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Sam, tired, exhausted, sick Sam, who looked mortified up at Dean.
“Hey, it’s okay— it’s okay Sammy, we’ll just take it out” Dean said inching closer. Sam had thrown up his feeding tube, which was never fun. The only other times he had managed to do that was at the hospital where nurses could fix it for him.
Sam had just relapsed a little over two months ago and this was the first time he had had to have a feeding tube outside of the hospital.
“I’ll gag again” Sam hulked, as his eyes started to fill with tears. Dean sat right in front of Sam and Sam leaned into his touch. He took the chance to embrace him and hold him as tight as he possibly managed without hurting the kid.
“I know Sammy but then you can be done, okay?” Dean knew it was an empty promise, knew that Sam might still throw up again and again the entire night, but it was all he could do for the kid right now.
Dean felt the kid nod against his chest, and Dean held him close for a few more seconds before easing Sam’s head away from his chest. The ‘no chick-flick moments’ rule disappeared when Sam was doing chemo— Dean could be the girliest of all the six foot dudes out there and he wouldn’t care for a second if it was while his kid was sick.
Sam looked at him with big, teary, exhausted eyes. Dean couldn’t focus too much on the look the kid was giving him, or how fast the kid seemed to lose weight these days— even with the NG tube. Instead he focused on the task at hand, removing the bright pink tape from his brother’s cheek, disregarding Sam’s winces when the tape pulled on his skin. Dean was the one who had put the tape on as Sam had been falling asleep last night while he tried to do it himself, and Dean had taken the opportunity to put on pink tape rather than the beige one Sam normally wore. Dean threw the tape to the side, intending to pick it up later. Then Dean untucked the tubing from Sam’s ear and pulled the tube out of his nose in one swift motion. Sam turned and started to gag again, but at least the tube was out. While Sam was busy heaving over the toilet, Dean threw away the tube and washed his hands, all while trying his hardest to not think about the fact that Sam now had to go through the process of getting a new one inserted while he was doing chemo. Normally Sam would refuse anything that could gag him when he was already fighting every waking moment to not throw up— but the feeding tubes was something he just had to relent to as the kid basically couldn’t eat normally anymore.
Sam slowed down and the gagging went over to coughing. It didn’t take long before Sam slumped exhausted over the toilet again, leaning his entire body weight on it.
“You’re breathing shitty” Dean said when Sam barely moved and Dean could almost not hear the wheezy little breaths Sam was taking.
“Bite… Me” Sam wheezed out, but still staying too still for Dean’s liking.
“I’ll be right back, Sammy” Dean said calmly as he rushed out of the bathroom and into Sam’s room to collect his oxygen tank and cannula.
The doctors had told them that Sam had been lucky the last time he went into remission. They had said that Sam’s lungs were barely hanging on and if he had to go through more chemo and trauma he would need more than just nebulizer treatments. Then the cancer came and kicked them all in their unexpecting asses. So this time around it wasn’t enough that Sam simply had to be in pain all the time, throw up, bleed, bruise, faint and all else that came with the wonderful package of leukemia. This time Sam also had to make sure he didn’t choke or exhausted his lungs simply from throwing up or coughing, this time Sam had to actually be connected to oxygen most of the time because he couldn’t physically pull in enough air to make his body function normally, this time Sam had to be scared of his lungs killing him before the cancer did, and that scared the living shit out of all of them.
Dean returned to the bathroom and kneeled down besides Sam. He turned the latch on the oxygen tank and made sure the cannula was fastened properly before he lifted Sam’s head and put the cannula on the kid.
“Better?” Sam nodded, which was a huge relief for Dean because he had actually done something that had helped Sam, even if it was just the tiniest little help.
Dean heard footsteps coming from upstairs. John pretty much kept as far away from the bathroom as he possibly could. Dean knew that their dad couldn’t handle Sam when he got like this, but it didn’t mean that it became any easier. In many ways it got harder for Dean because how the hell was he supposed to leave his kid with John when John couldn’t even be in the same room as Sam most days.
However, before Dean knew it the footsteps inched closer and moved down the staircase. It didn’t take long before John popped his head through the door and took a nervous breath at the sight.
“Is he doing better?” John asked Dean, not even looking back at Sam.
“Sam, are you doing better?” Dean asked with a sarcastic undertone. Sam barely even looked at them, just closing his eyes and breathing.
Dean was sure Sam would’ve flipped them off if he had the energy to lift his arm.
“Watch you tone Dean” Dean wanted to scream at their Dad to get the hell out of their sight, but instead he gave the man a short, strong nod. Like the good little soldier he was.
“He looks sick… sicker” John corrected.
“He always looks sick, dad. He can also hear you” John’s eyes narrowed at Dean. Normally Dean wouldn’t talk back to their dad, normally that was Sam’s job. However, Sam didn’t have the energy to and Dean was sure as hell not going to talk about the kid like he wasn’t right in front of them.
“I’m heading out. Will you boys be okay?” Dean wanted to snarl. They were always okay without John— it wasn’t like he ever did a shit. But instead Dean only nodded, not trusting his own voice.
“Feel better Sammy” Sam nodded and before they knew it John was gone and the front door clicked shut.
Dean took a few deep breaths, wishing that his own lungs could take over for Sam’s shitty ones.
“‘You think you’re done?” Dean asked. Sam hesitated a little before he proceeded to nod again. “Okay. Can I move you now or are you going to continue to shiver in here?” Dean asked, giving Sam a little smirk.
"Fine. Just don't drop me” Dean chuckled, barely stopping himself from playfully hitting Sam.
“I could make you walk, bitch” Sam smiled a little, and wasn’t that just the best thing in Dean’s entire world.
Dean moved to pick Sam up, and Sam let him without any resistance. He picked the tank up too, and threw the strap of its carrier over his shoulder.
It would be nice to have John’s help with carrying everything, but Dean knew better than to hope.
“Couch or bed?”
“Couch” Lately Sam hadn’t wanted to stay in his room. Dean wasn’t sure why, but he knew that if the kid was more comfortable with the couch, Dean would do anything to get him to said couch. Since there was where Sam spent most of his time lately when he wasn’t in the bathroom puking his guts out, they had stocked up on fluffy blankets and big pillows that made the ugly gray couch ten times more comfortable.
Dean carefully sat Sam down on the couch, supporting his back and head until he had lowered him into the huge pillow. Sam was basically deadweight at this point, fully unable to sit up on his own or stand when he was as tired as he was now.
“‘You ‘gonna fall asleep before I manage to get some liquid into ‘ya?” Sam looked at him wryly. Dean guessed it was due to the suggestion of having Sam drink something again.
“I’m in too much pain to sleep Dean” Dean felt his heart break into small pieces that all collectively fell out of his chest at the same time. He did his best to compose himself fast and he was glad that Sam had his eyes closed, so he didn’t have to see the tears forcing their way into Dean’s eyes.
“‘You want more painkillers, Sammy?” Sam shook his head slightly.
“They don’t help Dean. Only makes me feel more nauseous” Fuck if Dean knew how to respond to that.
“Anything I can do to make you feel less shitty then?”
“Turn the heat up?” Their house was already warmer than any normal person would like it, both Dean and John had to walk around in t-shirts to not overheat. But Sam, Sam could never get warm enough. It was both due to the chemo and to his poor oxygen flow, and it was hell on the kid. Freaking always shivering, even when he was sweating pigs.
Dean turned the heat up.
Dean also went into the hallway and found some thick wool socks that he brought back to Sam and put on Sam, over his already green fuzzy socks. He then grabbed the thickest blanket they had in the living room and tucked Sam firmly in from top to toe.
“If you don’t end up with a heat stroke tomorrow…” Sam smiled slightly as he opened his eyes and watched Dean’s smirk. Dean got two water bottles from the fridge and went back to take a seat next to Sam, careful not to jostle the kid. “Wanna watch something?” Dean asked, gesturing towards the TV.
“No it’s too loud” It wasn’t anything new that sounds were worse for Sam after starting chemo again. Everything that made more noise than a regular conversation would physically hurt the kid. Dean figured it was similar to Sam not being able to handle touch either. Dean quickly figured out that the only way he was listening to music while Sam was still on chemo was through his headset.
“Okay Sam”
“Have you looked at the dorms yet?” Sam asked after a few seconds of silence
“What?” Dean started to wonder if Sam had a fever.
“The dorms. You and dad always talked about you guys taking a drive to the campus before summer was over”
“Dude that was ages ago, before we knew…” before we knew that you would relapse at the end of may.
“So? you’re going to college Dean”
“Sam.”
“I mean it Dean, you do so much for me but I won’t let you not live your life because I am too sick to live mine right now” Dean didn’t want to look at Sam.
“I’m not having this conversation with you”
“Dean, you have already missed too much. You missed graduation because of me. I won’t let you keep putting your life on hold” Dean knew Sam blamed himself for him missing graduation. Sam had been rushed to the hospital in an ambulance the morning of, having fainted in the bathroom and not being able to breathe.
“I told you I’m not having this conversation now!” Dean looked away, not wanting to see Sam’s face after he had yelled at him. “I’m- just… Can we just take this another day?”
“Fine” Dean met Sam’s eyes, feeling like the biggest jerk in the entire world.
“Jerk” I love you
“Bitch” I love you too
“Now where did we leave off?” Dean asked as he reached towards the big heavy copy of Sherlock Holmes. Sam knew the book in and out, he could probably recite every page on a bad day. It was the only book that Dean ever read that wasn’t forced on him by school or that involved pictures of half naked women. Sam wasn’t able to keep his eyes focused enough on the pages to read, nor hold the heavy book, so Dean read it to him. Over and over again, each time they finished it they started over again— because that was what made Sam happy. Again, the ‘no chick-flick moments’ rule never counted when Sam was sick— never ever ever ever ever ev-...
“Dean?” Dean stopped reading, looking up from the book and over to Sam.
“Thanks” Dean smiled and looked back down to the book, reciting every word until Sam was fast asleep.
Dean wouldn’t sleep before he knew Sam was okay, before he knew Sam would sleep through the night, before he knew that someone else would wake him if something happened to Sam. Which meant that tonight Dean wouldn’t sleep.