Chapter 1

Dean woke up this morning, as always, at 7 am. His back were hurting a bit after another night spent at an old couch, whose springs were piercing through the cushions and, in consequence, to the Dean's body. He didn't think about it though; the minute he woke up all his thoughts were focused on someone else.

His brother, Sam.

He was still sleeping peacefully in a hospital-style bed by the wall, his chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm of deep breaths. He seemed ok; Dean felt like he could breathe too.

Dean silently got out from the bed and went to the bathroom to take a quick, hot shower. He didn't close the bathroom door – he was keeping it always open these days. He wanted to be sure that he would hear his brother, in case he called for him; also, it's not like they have any secrets or embarrassment towards themselves anyway. Not anymore, not in this situation.

Hot water was amazing, but Dean made the shower quick. They had to watch out for water and heat expenditure, and basically everything that cost money. Money became an issue really – they can't be on the road, so it's not safe to use false credit cards; same situation with pool game and any other gambling. Sam can't be left alone for longer than an hour, so Dean having a job wasn't an option either. They have to live on the sick and care allowance, which was barely enough for their basic needs – meds for Sam, doctors appointments, bills, some food, sometimes gas for the car to take Sam to the doctor or going for groceries. They couldn't really afford anything more than that, and Dean started running a notebook, where he wrote down all the expenses, so they can make it till next month.

Dean dry himself and quickly returned to the living room to check on Sam. He was still sleeping, but started to move and groan a little, and Dean knew that it won't be long before he wakes up.

He went to the kitchen and stated preparing some breakfast for both of them – scrambled eggs with avocado, yoghurt with oat flakes and apple chunks; a nourishing meal for a too-thin and too-weak little brother and tired, but still strong, older brother.

Dean? - that was Sam's voice coming from the living room.

Oh, hey buddy – said Dean with a soft voice, entering the room with a rubber in his hands. – Did you sleep well?

Yeah - said Sam. - I need to go to the bathroom – he added quietly, not looking at Dean.

Ok then – Dean threw the rubber on the sofa and took the wheelchair from the corner of the room and quickly approach to the bed. – It was time to get up anyway, Sleeping Beauty.

Dean grabbed his brother, placing one of his hands under the Sam's armpits and second one under his knees, and gently lowered his brother to the wheelchair.

Let's go! – ordered Dean merrily, already wheeling Sam towards the bathroom.

When they get there, Dean put the wheelchair next to the toilet seat, gently took off Sam's sweatpants and boxers and lifted his brother to the toilet seat, then placed Sam's right palm on a grip handler, so he would be stable during taking care of business. Dean stepped back and faced the mirror, giving Sam a little privacy, despite he didn't left the room.

Ok, I'm done – communicated Sam.

And they did it all again – transfer from the toilet to the wheelchair, pants up, washing hands.

It's time for breakfast, don't you think? – Dean asked his brother, trying to pull him in the conversation.

Sam nodded. He didn't became a very talkative person after what happened. He didn't like the sound of his own slurred speech and the fact that usually a little bit of saliva flowed from the corner of his mouth while talking. On the other hand, Dean was talking almost all the time, trying to cheer up his little brother, trying to build an impression of normal life. Cos' this is their normal life now.

I've got a delicious scrambled eggs with avocado, I now you like it – said Dean, not giving up. – Unless you want something else? Hm?

No, eggs are fine. – answered Sam, looking at his knees.

In the kitchen Dean moved the wheelchair to the table and started cooking, making coffee in the meantime.

A few second later a mug of hot coffee with milk and sugar landed in front of Sam.

Here you go, your favorite girlish coffee – joked Dean, putting the mug on the table.

It wasn't a regular mug though – it was a special piece of equipment for disabled persons like Sam, who have a problem with movement coordination and gripping things. It has two ear cups and a cap with a mouthpiece, which made drinking without spilling the liquid all over himself possible for Sam, at his better days at least. Today Sam attempted getting just one sip before the eggs were ready, concentrating entirely on the task. But his hands were clumsy and trembling, and he didn't manage to put the mug back on the table – it just flipped from his fingers and landed on the floor.

Dean was there in a second, picking up the mug, looking at Sam in a full mother-hen mode, asking:

Are you burned? The coffee was really hot. Did it spilled out on you?

Nnoo, I'm okay, Dean.

You shure? If it burned you, we have to...

Dean, st-thop. It's okay. I'm fine.

Dean looked at him tenetatively for a few seconds, but not seeing any signs of distress on his brother, he let it go.

Ready to eat? - he asked.

Sam nodded.

Dean put a fresh washcloth over Sam's chest, which was supposed to function as a bib. Sam hated that; but even more he hated being stained and changed six-seven times a day.

You wanna try it by yourself? – suggested Dean.

Yeah.

Sam awkwardly grabbed the fork and started his battle with the dish. Taking a bite on a fork, keeping it on all the way to the mouth and eventually putting it in wasn't an easy task when your arms doesn't really like fulfilling orders anymore. Sam always tried to eat a little by himself, but if he really wanted to eat something, he has to let Dean fed him. Today was no exception; Sam managed to swallow three bites and drop four to the floor in time when Dean ate all of his portion. Sam stopped his struggles and put down the fork on a plate.

Time for help? – asked Dean and took the fork, not really waiting for an answer.

He started slowly feeding his brother and babbling all the time, because it was terrible when they do it in silence, and Dean can't really expect his brother to start a conversation. Dean just wanted to make everything a little easier and more bearable for him, show him that he doesn't give a shit if his brother can eat a breakfast by himself or cannot; the only thing that matters to Dean is that his brother is here, alive and talking. They just finished the eggs and reach the yoghurt, when problems started. Sam began to having trouble swallowing, his salivary glands went nuts and everything that Dean managed to put to his mouth was slowly running down Sam's cheek, making him frustrated and aggravated. He tried to wipe the food from his cheek using his palm, but the only result he got was more mess.

Sammy, it's okay, let me handle this – said Dean in a calming voice, catching Sam's wrists and gently lowering them on the wheelchair armrests. - There's nothing to worry about.

Dean cleaned his brother with a wet tissues and take off the stained washcloth. If we're talking about breakfast, that's it. It will be a great luck if it at least stays in kid stomach.

Ok, I'm gonna do the dishes, while you can finish your coffee. – said Dean when they finished. –You ok with that?

Sam nodded, but he didn't attempt to grab the coffee.

When the kitchen was clean again, Dean started preparing the morning set of meds for Sam, and God – this was quite a collection. Anti-spasm pills and painkillers; anti-depressant, anti-epilepsy drugs and something for Sam's low blood pressure. Dean handle the meds and a mug with water to his brother. Sam took the pills obediently.

Ok, if you're ready, it's time to brush teeth and get dressed, little brother – said Dean, grabbing the handles of Sam's wheelchair. – Think about what would you like to wear today.

A weak smile was the only answer from Sam.

Six months earlier

Is he gonna wake up? – Dean asked impatiently.

I'm not a human doctor, Dean.

Could you take a guess?!

Ok – probably not – said Cass, his voice full of anger.

Well, don't sugar-coat it! – now Dean was angry too.

I'm sorry Dean, but I've warned you not to put that back inside him…

Then what was I supposed to do?! Let T-1000 walk around, hope he doesn't open fire… - Dean was angry and desperate, his voice shaking.

Let me tell you what his soul felt like, when it touched it – like it've been skinned alive, Dean! If you wanted to kill your brother, you should've done it right!

They stare at each other intensively for a moment, and then, with the whistle of wings, Cass was gone. If he doesn't want to be there when Sammy wakes up and help him get back on his feet, so be it. At the end of the day, the only thing that they have is each other. Dean is gonna be there for his brother, whatever happens. They will figure it out, just like they always do.

Dean approached to the bed and sat on it's edge. Sam was pale, but somehow he looked more peacefully, more relaxed than before. Dean checked his brother's IV – everything looked fine. He took his hands and talked to his brother in soft voice:

You're gonna be ok, Sammy. I promise. Everything is gonna be ok. God, your hands are cold as ice. You know what? I'm gonna get you a blanket.

He went upstairs and took an old checkered blanket, found in a wardrobe. He tucked it closely around his brother.

I will wait here, until you wake up, little brother. I'm not going anywhere.

The whole day passed, and Sam didn't wake up.Dean spent it on a chair next to him, talking, reading to him, encouraging to wake up.

Sam didn't wake up that day. And the next. And next.

By the fourth day, Dean was crazy with worrying. He can keep Sam hydrated by IV's, but everything else was out of his hands. Sam's eyes was already sunken, his face was pale and a weight loss was visible. Dean started considering taking his brother to a hospital, despite the fact that whatever was wrong with him, there is nothing that "casual" medicine can offer them.

Present time

So, any preferences? – Dean was inspecting the interior of their wardrobe.

Sam was quiet.

Ok, I'm calling grey sweats and green flannel then.

Dean took the clothes from the wardrobe and helped his brother put them on, slowly guiding his arms and legs through the sleeves.

So, we're clean, dressed, and after breakfast. I think it's time for a little stupid morning television and physical therapy, right buddy? – said Dean, his voice filled with optimism.

R...Right, Deaaan - confirmed Sam in a flat voice.

Dean manhandled his brother onto the bed, turn on the TV and started massaging his brothers legs and arms, to ease the tension and get rid of the cramps. Once that was done, he started methodically bend and straighten Sam's limbs, make circles with it. The lady on the TV show was explaining how to make a fat-free burger.

Fat-free burger, you hear that, Sammy? How could she even call it a burger? I will never understand that.

S-sssome people care about what they eat – said Sam. – You couldn't refuse their r...rrr-reasons, since cardiovascular diseases are one of the m...m-major causes of death in the S...S-States.

Dean only smiled under the nose, happy that he have managed to pull his brother in a conversation.

Sammy, always such a geek. What about the taste? How a fat-free burger can taste like...?

They continued this casual conversation until Dean have finished the therapy. He inspected his brother for any signs of emerging bedsores – besides Dean's best effort to keep his brother as mobile as possible, Sam still spent plenty of time lying in bed. Helping him change the position every hour surely helps to prevent the formation of bedsores, but didn't guarantee that it would never happen. Doctor Coulbert was very strict about that.

Despite it all, today was a good day. Sam managed to eat half of the dinner, three-quarters of the supper and a whole Nutridrink. He didn't throw up and had only one mild seizure, but with a bathroom-accident.

That is their life now, the new demons and monsters they fight every day – eating, dressing, using the bathroom, trying to survive till the next month.

T.b.c.