CHAPTER TWO
Sam and Dean had been in the hospital together for a few weeks now, Dean didn't realise how long winded this would be. But he wasn't mad, instead of tearing each other's hair out, he and Sam had grown steadily closer and acted as if they'd known each other for the majority of their lives and not just a few weeks.
Dean didn't understand why he liked Sam so much, generally happy people annoyed him after a while.
It wasn't like they'd had heart to hearts or anything, hell, they hadn't even talked about what was wrong with them yet.
Dean didn't like to think about it, though. This was just life now, stuck in this ward with a stupid outfit with a kid he got on well with, he supposed he was grateful for it.
He and Sam were talking about Sam's home state, Texas, when a little ball of energy came charging into the room and flung itself at Dean.
"Hey, Cas!" Dean exclaimed, struggling to hold the squirming mass in his arms. Cas flung his arms around Dean's neck with such force that he took Dean down with him onto the bed. Dean scowled to himself as he heard Sam laughing.
"Cas, put your Brother down!" Came the voice of Mary as she approached the bed. Dean stood up, holding Cas on his hip. "Wow, man, you get bigger every time I see you!" He exclaimed.
Mary walked over to them, taking Cas into her own arms and kissing Dean on the cheek, he hugged her, trying not to smile too widely.
"How are you, baby?" She asked.
Dean shrugged non-committally. "Fine, I guess. My headaches are getting worse, though." He tried to tone his voice down, not allowing his mother to hear his worry. But she frowned nonetheless and it caused Dean to wince. He hated seeing his mom in this kind of pain, he thanked God that Cas wasn't old enough to fully understand yet.
"Are they giving you enough painkillers?" Mary asked, concern in her voice.
Dean opened his mouth to answer before he heard an all too familiar snort behind him.
"Shut up, you!" He began, sounding mock-angry, turning to glare at Sam but only managing to make him laugh harder.
Mary arched her eyebrow. "What?"
"Dean practically took the whole bottle the other day and was just high!" Sam explained, falling onto his bed in laughter again.
Dean shook his head in bemusement. "They gave me the wrong strength," he explained, "I was just a little...happy."
"Yeah, if you call trying and failing to do handstands and breaking the..."
Dean elbowed Sam gently in the ribs as a grin crept across his Mother's face.
"Well, I'm glad the pair of you are finding ways to keep yourselves amused."
"Mom, put me down, please." Cas whined, and Mary pressed a small kiss to his nose and placed him on the floor. Cas walked to Dean and it was only then that Dean realised he was holding something.
"What you got there, Cas?" Asked Dean, squatting down next to his brother. Cas held the book out to him.
Dean took the book from his little hands. "Do you want Sam to read to you again?"
Cas looked like he was deliberating for a moment. On the one hand, Dean did all the cool voices, but Sam made all the sentences sound exciting.
"Both." Cas finally decided.
"Both?" Asked Sam. "You want me and Dean to read to you?"
Cas nodded, grinning.
Dean turned his head and grinned at Sam.
"All right, buddy." He said to Cas, steering him in the direction of the kids area. "We'll read to you."
Dean sat down on a chair and Cas scrambled up to sit on his lap, Sam grabbed a chair and placed it next to Dean's.
Sam grinned at Dean from over Cas's shoulder and Dean opened Cas's preferred book so that all three of them could see it.
Dean raised an eyebrow. "You sure like your pirates, don't you, Cas?" He asked rhetorically but Cas nodded anyway.
"Yeah, pirates are awesome, I'm gonna be one!"
"You'll make a brilliant pirate, Cas." Sam assured him, earning a massive smile from the little boy.
"Okay," began Dean, shifting slightly under Cas's ever-growing weight. "Lets get this show on the road."
Sam shot a hand out to take one end of the book, brushing his fingers against Dean's open palm. Dean didn't move his hand away and Sam blushed, forcing himself not to look up at Dean's face as he held onto the book.
" "Once upon a time", he read, "there lived the greatest pirate in all the land, he was the fiercest, smartest and bravest pirate that ever lived. One day, this pirate said to himself..."
Sam glanced at Dean, silently telling him to take over. Dean leaned closer to his little Brother before speaking. " "Yo ho ho! I want to find the treasure of Princess Linka, but to do that, I need a crew!""
Cas giggled uncontrollably at Dean's pretty passable pirate accent. Sam never saw this level of the enthusiasm in Dean when Cas wasn't around.
"Turn the page!" Cas insisted eagerly, "turn the page!"
Dean shifted one hand to turn the page.
Nothing happened.
"Turn the page!" Cas insisted again.
But Dean didn't, he didn't turn the page. In fact, he didn't move his hands at all.
Sam looked up to see Dean staring down in full horror at his hands.
Dean's hand jerked and the book tumbled from his grip and fell to the floor, his hands were twitching.
Cas let out a noise of disappointment, but Dean's Mother had her hands on his arms.
For a long second, Dean stared up at his Mother, a look of confusion on his face. Before he tore his gaze away and flexed his fingers again and again.
"Dean?" His Mother asked, "baby, are you...?"
"I'm fine." Dean snapped, shrugging his Mother's hands away before standing and walking away.
Cas hugged Sam's side as Sam watched Dean's retreating back, confusion etched into his features.
Sam made eye contact with Dean's Mother, she looked...she looked like simply being sad was a luxury.
Sam ruffled Cas's hair and forced himself to smile at Mary.
"I'll go see if he's okay."
"Thank you, Sam." She said earnestly, taking hold of Cas's hand and turning away.
…
Dean obviously didn't want to talk about it, and Sam had known him long enough to not pursue the subject. He figured that anyone Dean didn't particularly like who rubbed him the wrong way would get a punch on the nose.
Considering Dean seemed to like Sam, he assumed if he pissed him off he'd only get the silent treatment but he didn't want to risk it.
Sam got lonely when Dean didn't talk.
It wasn't until midnight that Sam heard Dean finally lie down, he'd been sat in the corner of the room doing nothing.
Sam knew Dean just zoned out from time to time, to think or relax. But Dean wasn't relaxed, whatever happened to him earlier had put him on edge, Sam had seen the fear in his eyes when he'd looked at his Mother.
Sam had refused to go to sleep until he heard Dean get into bed. When he finally heard the familiar sound of covers rustling he closed his eyes.
"Sam." Came a sudden whisper in the dim light. "Are you still up?"
Sam opened his eyes and shifted to see Dean, sat up crossed legged in his bed, covers pooled around his ankles.
He looked tired.
"Yeah," Sam replied, rather redundantly. "I'm up, is everything okay?"
Dean nodded once, slowly. Only really looking in Sam's general direction and not straight at him.
Sam stared at Dean's eyes, so old in some ways, so tired, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Yet at the same time, his eyes were so very gentle, like they were made of glass. Almost like if Sam stared at them too long they would shatter.
Sensing he was being watched, Dean's gaze eased itself up to Sam's until their eyes met.
"Dean," Sam began, his voice soft but not scared. "What's wrong with you?"
Dean's gaze didn't waver, it stayed locked on Sam but the edges of his lips twitched slightly, like his body had tried to speak before his mind had let it.
Dean's gaze moved slowly down Sam's face and then back up to his hazel orbs. Sam shivered, he felt like Dean was devouring every last inch of him.
Dean finally spoke after a long time. "I've got a tumour, Sam." He said, he didn't sound mad, or annoyed or angry. But he didn't sound normal either. He sounded, resigned. Honest.
Sam felt his heart fall in his chest as the words left Dean's mouth. He felt all the traces of pity leave him and instead be replaced by dread, and a fear he had never felt before.
He felt tears well in the back of his eyes as Dean continued to speak, he felt a hollow emptiness in his stomach as he involuntarily contemplated a life without Dean Winchester in it.
Or worse still, a life where Dean Winchester had been ruined and destroyed.
"It's at the top of my spine-" Dean was saying, like he'd rehearsed the words a million times. "-touching my brain. It affects everything, my balance, my co-ordination..." He trailed off, his gaze trailing with it.
He sat, silent for a long time. Leaving Sam alone with his mind. He couldn't stop thinking of all the times Dean had fallen, or when he'd lost control of his hands and dropped that damn book and every one of those memories hurt.
Because now he knew that every time Dean stumbled, or couldn't hear properly, it was because he had an alien inside him that was...that was destroying him.
Dean looked up to see silent tears coursing unrelentingly down Sam's cheeks and his eyes softened in pity.
"Sammy," he began, voice thick. "Don't be sad. Please."
Sam began to speak, voice choking on his tears. "Is...is it, how..." he brought his hands to his face and wiped the tears hastily away, hating the way they stung.
"How did it happen?" He asked finally, looking up into Dean's beautiful and yet some how hauntingly sad face.
Dean stared for a moment, taken aback. That was the last question he'd been expecting. Generally, when people found out they asked if it was fatal or if it hurt. He didn't think anyone had asked how it happened. But as he thought about it, it occurred to him that all the sympathy he'd gotten from family and others had been because he was dying.
He wouldn't be interesting without the tumour, therefore no one cared how it had come about, no one wanted to hear stories of Dean when he'd been fit and healthy.
No one, it seemed, except Sam.
Dean coughed slightly, clearing his throat and twisting his fingers around, unsure how to answer.
"Before this all happened," he found himself saying, looking up to see Sam's attention was captivated. "I played football for my local team, err, I guess it was what I wanted to do, or at least it was the only thing I was good at..."
There was something in Dean's voice that made Sam question that. He made a mental note to ask Dean about his life goals before filling it away and listening to his stories.
"Well, anyway-" Dean continued, "I was after the ball, we were going for the win and...I stretched my hands out..." as Dean was saying the words his body was mimicking them, he had his arms stretched out as if he were still trying to catch that ball. Like his body was reliving the memory as well as his mind.
"And...I stumbled." Dean admitted, shrugging, his hands falling to his side again. "I've never been clumsy and I've never once fallen trying to get a catch...but I stumbled, and I fell and I broke my hand."
Sam shifted slightly, looking up. "You broke your hand?" He asked, "but...did it hurt?"
Dean chuckled lightly but there was no humour in his voice. "Yeah, it hurt like a bitch. The guys took me to hospital and they x-rayed me, my Mom was so worried," he was laughing again, "treating me like I was Cas's age, you know."
Dean glanced down, holding his left hand in his right. Sam presumed that must have been the one he had damaged.
But then Dean looked up, and his eyes looked haunted. "Then, when they'd put the cast on me, some Doctor comes in saying they want me back for further tests, saying they have some...concerns." The word sounded bitter on his tongue.
"What happened then?" Asked Sam softly.
"A few days after my arm had healed, they called me and my Mom to the hospital, and there was Doctor Singer," he continued, "he told me he ran a ward for seriously ill children who needed constant care or testing, and he wanted me to be on that ward, because I had a cranial tumour."
Dean hung his head in his hands. "Deep down, I never really got angry, I mean, it was less than I deserved..."
"Dean!" Began Sam immediately, cutting him off. Dean looked up to see pure outrage in his eyes. "You do not deserve this!"
Dean shrugged, looking down again. "Anyway, they wanted to keep me here until they knew whether or not they could operate but, it's not looking too healthy."
Sam didn't speak for a long time, taking in every word Dean had to say, including Dean's almost suicidal nature.
He couldn't think of what to say, he finally settled on an old cliché. "I'm so sorry, Dean."
But the words felt wrong. This wasn't some random ill person, this was Dean. The guy that was rapidly becoming one of the best friends Sam had ever had and had already rapidly become one of his most intense crushes. He felt like he had to say something more meaningful, but for the life of him he couldn't find the words.
"So, yeah." Dean concluded finally. "It's not the best story in the world, but..." He trailed off.
"Do you wanna go back to it?" Sam asked, grabbing Dean's attention once more. "Football, I mean." He clarified, catching sight of Dean's confused expression. "If you get out of here, do you want to play again?"
Dean didn't answer, but he didn't move either. Not a muscle in his face. Sam was momentarily worried, he thought maybe Dean was losing co-ordination again.
"I'm not getting out of here, Sam." He said finally, and there was nothing in his voice.
If Sam didn't know any better, he could swear he could feel his own heart cracking at the emptiness he was hearing. "You can't think like that." He all but whispered.
Dean shook his head, scooting further along his bed so he was closer to Sam. "Doctor Singer made it clear the first time I met him, people who come here come here to die. No bastard told me it would take this long, though."
"We're not going to die." Said Sam immediately, voice still low.
He looked up and their eyes met again. "No, you're right. You probably wont. Sammy, we've been here for ages and you've seen me collapse and trip and all that bullshit, I've never seen you do anything, if I didn't know better, I wouldn't even think there was anything wrong with you."
Sam looked down, staring at his hands and nodded. "Yeah, a lot of people say that." He admitted, it was obvious to him that they were off the topic of Dean's hopelessness and if he tried to wriggle his way back to it he might just get that punch to the face he'd been expecting.
He dipped his head lower. "You don't think I'm a liar, do you?" He asked quietly, no judgement in his voice. He seemed genuinely curious, saddened, even.
Dean's eyes widened. "No! No, of course I don't! That's not what I meant at all."
Sam kept his eyes fixed on his hands.
"Sammy."
He didn't look up.
Sam heard the rustling of covers and heard Dean's footsteps padding the short distance between their beds. He felt Dean's weight sink down next to him.
"Sam, look at me." Dean all but commanded softly but authoritatively.
Sam looked up to see Dean was sat closer than he was expecting. "Sammy, I'm sorry." Dean admitted, voice apologetic. "I don't think you're a liar. I'm an idiot, I don't think before I speak."
"You're not an idiot," Sam countered, "it's just, it's...it's not that."
The same confusion from earlier resurfaced in Dean's eyes. "Then what?" He asked.
"I don't want to tell you," Sam admitted, "I don't want you to know what's wrong with me." It was the bluntest way he could have said it, but he still cringed as he saw the pain flicker across Dean's eyes for only a moment before it was gone.
"Don't you trust me?" Asked Dean, and Sam could hear the way he was trying to keep the confusion out of his voice, but it seeped through anyway.
Sam shook his head, "no, of course I do." He tried to explain, "you've got me wrong. I can't tell you because I won't be able to bear it."
"Sammy, you're really confusing me." Dean admitted, shifting slightly like he didn't know what to do with his hands. "Is something wrong? You're making me think something is really wrong."
"Nothing is wrong..."
"We're friends, you can tell me anything..."
"It's because we're friends that I can't tell you anything!" The words exploded from Sam's mouth and Dean physically recoiled, he'd never heard even the slightest hint of anger from Sam, he'd never seen him like this. Worked up and scared, even.
After a few moments, Sam began to speak again, his words back to normal. "I won't be able to bear you judging me, the way every other person has judged me."
After a few moments of stunned silence, Dean nodded. "Okay," he began, "I understand."
He turned away from Sam, mind working a million miles a minute. "I never knew that..." He dipped his head down.
"Never knew what?" Sam prompted, Dean turned back to him.
"I never knew that I meant so much to you."
Sam felt his cheeks go red and looked away immediately, trying to act as casual as he could. Dean couldn't know, he couldn't find out. It would make everything ten times worse.
Sam instead just shrugged. "We're friends, I take that seriously."
Dean nodded. "Well, so do I."
And with that, he stood and walked back to his own bed.
Sam crashed back onto his own bed, willing his blush to fade away as he heard Dean lay down.
"I'd never judge you, Sammy." Came Dean's voice in the gloom. Sam held his breath as his heart quickened but Dean didn't talk again.
…
Sam had been asleep for a while now but Dean couldn't drift off. He couldn't stop thinking about the things Sam had said, how he'd flat out refused to tell Dean what was wrong.
Why would I possibly judge him? Dean thought to himself.
He tried to go through different scenario's in his head. Reasons why Sam couldn't tell him anything. Asylum seeker, criminal, embarrassment...none of them seemed to fit.
Dean liked to think he knew Sam pretty well now and there was no possible way Dean could see Sam having some terrible secret that would make him hate him.
Not the sweet, happy kid that even lifted Dean's spirits from time to time.
Dean had to admit it to himself if no one else. He felt different when he was around Sam, he didn't feel so shitty all the time.
But back there, during that pretty intense conversation, he'd had the strangest feeling in his gut that he couldn't pinpoint.
Dean shook his head, not wanting to waste any more time thinking about it.
He released a long breath and closed his eyes, finally feeling himself relax into the pillow.
His eyes shot open immediately to the sound of stirring coming from the bed beside him. He listened out carefully as he heard Sam, tossing and turning and mumbling. He wasn't awake, but then he never mumbled in his sleep either.
Dean closed his eyes again, but after a few moments, the stirring became more persistent, louder.
Dean could hear the distress in Sam's voice and turned, he walked over to the kid's bed to see him in the middle of an obvious nightmare. Dean frowned to himself, Sammy never had nightmares.
Dean put an arm on Sam's sweat-coated shoulder and shook him gently. "Sammy," he whispered, not particularly sure why considering they were the only people there. "Sammy," he shook him a little harder. "Sammy, wake up!"
Sam jerked awake, hand flying to Dean's which was still clutching his shoulder. As Sam hovered in the place between consciousness for a few moments, gasping in shock, Dean stared at their hands clasped together, he couldn't pull away. Sam was holding his hand tightly, obviously he was scared stiff.
But his hand was...warm.
"Gary...please..." Dean stared at Sam's face, scrunched up in pain. His eyebrows knotted together in confusion.
The hand was removed and Dean's head cleared. He looked up to see Sam staring at him, sweat clinging to his face.
"Are you okay?" Asked Dean.
Sam didn't speak for a minute as he got his breath back.
"Oh," he looked around the room for a minute.
"Sammy, who's Gary?"
Sam looked down, pointedly away from Dean's eyes.
"Sammy..."
Dean recoiled when Sam looked up, he had silent tears streaming down his face.
"Sammy..." Dean stuck out a hand out of habit more than anything else, before he realised this was Sam and not some chick he was sweet talking or his Mom.
Dean's hand hung uselessly in the air for a moment, the pair of them just staring at it, before Dean let it drop to his side.
This seemed to distract Sam slightly, his tears were becoming less frequent.
"Gary was..." Sam sighed, again reverting his gaze from Dean. Dean didn't think he could look at him.
"He was my boyfriend," fresh tears streamed from his eyes, Dean suddenly realised he wanted to reach out and wipe them away, stop Sam from crying no matter what.
"When I was 15," Sam continued, staring directly at the floor. "He...used me. He...forced me."
Dean felt every other problem he had in his life dissolve for a split second as the gravity of the situation really weighed down on him.
"I'm gonna kill him." Dean said quietly, it didn't even occur to him that Sam would hear.
Dean was brought out his infuriated reverie when he heard a humourless chuckle come from Sam.
"You can't," he said, looking up. His voice sounded heavy. "He's dead."
Dean tried his best not to feel satisfied, but it was truly hard. He wanted to gut whatever fucked up human had put that sort of hell on Sammy.
"What happened?" Asked Dean.
Sam's lips twitched up into a crooked, humourless smile. "He died of H.I.V."
It took a few moments for the cogs to turn in Dean's brain and add everything up.
"You...?" He asked quietly. "You have...?"
Sam nodded. "I'm positive, Dean. They put me in here when I got the flu and got really sick."
Dean's head dropped into his hands and he'd never felt like more of a douche bag. Feeling sorry for himself all day when he had a chance, if only small, the slightest chance.
Sam had nothing. Sam had...Dean couldn't think about it, it was making him feel sick to the stomach.
He could feel Sam's damn calm and accepting eyes boring into his skull and after a while he couldn't take it any more. He couldn't stand the fact that despite everything he'd ever done he'd been allowed the slightest of chances, and Sam, who was probably the greatest person Dean would ever meet, wasn't allowed that.
Dean found himself thinking that if there really was a God, he was a sadistic fuck.
But Dean also found himself thinking that, despite the fact he'd been thinking the same thing constantly these past few weeks, it was in this moment alone that he really wanted to die.
He finally looked up to Sam, still calm and controlled. He didn't understand.
"With a story like that-" Dean began, "how the hell can you be so happy all the time?"
Sam's smile was small but genuine. "'Cause I have hope. I never lost it."
Before Dean realised what he was doing, he had his arms around Sam and had enveloped him into a warm embrace.
Sam smiled contently, feeling safe in Dean's strong arms.
There was that strange feeling in Dean's stomach he couldn't pinpoint, and then he was retracting his arms almost awkwardly.
"You don't though, do you?" Said Sam suddenly.
"Huh?" Asked Dean, "Don't what?"
"Hope." Sam clarified, "it's like you've given up hope."
Dean ducked his head down for a moment, he couldn't take the sadness in Sam's eyes as he said it, he couldn't stand the pity.
"Yeah well," he began, trying in vain to lighten the situation. "I guess I don't, I never have."
"You should," said Sam, and something in his voice made Dean look up again, Sam's eyes were shining.
"We'll be okay."
...
It was two days later that Dean began to realise that the more time he spent with Sam, the more optimistic he seemed to become.
Things Sam had said to him the other night seemed to make more sense. It wasn't like Dean was suddenly a changed, hopeful man. But he was starting to see that Sam was right, he didn't have any hope, he had nothing.
He wanted to change it, but he didn't think he could.
He'd also been looking at Sam differently, not like he judged him for what had happened to him, God no. But Dean had a renewed sort of respect for the kid, the fact that he kept smiling every day despite everything, the fact that he was only a teenager and he was already a better man than Dean would ever be.
It was a hot day so the pair had decided to sit outside on the grass. There were other people around, Dean pretended not to notice the people staring at him and Sam in their clinical white like they might infect the air. But as usual, Sam didn't seem to care, so Dean felt silly bringing it up. He was a lot older than the kid for Christ's sakes, he shouldn't care what random people thought of him.
Dean watched as Sam was lightly picking the daisies off of the ground and throwing them to one side with an arched eyebrow.
"Please don't tell me you're planning on making me some daisy chain." As the words came out of his mouth, he realised that was exactly the sort of thing Cas would do. He rolled his eyes at himself and Sam giggled.
Dean thought about it for a moment, no, it was definitely a giggle.
"I think you could make it work." Sam answered, and it was the earnestness in his voice that made Dean laugh.
Sam loved Dean's laugh, it was warming. It was safe to say that Dean still confused Sam, for a guy that looked at death as a good plan how in the hell could he make Sam feel so happy?
Instead of saying what he wanted to, he instead flicked one of his picked daisies at Dean and hit him squarely in the temple.
Dean mock-glared at him and Sam burst into a fit of laughter, Dean opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a woman who'd walked past them.
"May God be with your poor souls." She said, with a withering look in her eyes, Dean and Sam kept a straight face until she'd left before they both collapsed into laughter, hoping she didn't turn back and see them.
After a few moments, the laughter died down and the pair lapsed into silence.
Sam tried to build himself up and ask Dean the question he'd been meaning to ask him for days.
"So, Dean," he finally began, wishing for the first time that Dean's look wasn't so damn intense. "When I told you about Gary..."
Sam stopped talking as he saw Dean's fist clench. Dean flexed his fingers.
"Sorry," he said, "err, carry on."
Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably, he tried to stop the satisfaction seep onto his face. The satisfaction that the mere mention of Gary sent Dean into a fit of rage, the satisfaction at the way Dean made Sam feel like he was the most important person in the world. He looked down and picked up some of the daisies he'd picked. He used his nail to make a hole in one of them and threaded the stem of another through it. Dean watched in silence as Sam began to make a daisy chain, he wasn't sure if he was going to carry on talking.
"Well," he eventually continued, not looking up at Dean. "When I told you about...it, you didn't say anything."
Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? I said..."
Sam interrupted him. "I don't mean that, I mean, when I said I had a boyfriend, you didn't say anything about me being...gay."
Sam looked up to see Dean staring incredulously at him. "I think there were slightly more pressing things than that." He said.
Sam chuckled a little, going back to his chain. "Yeah well, I was worried you might think..."
"Wait, Sammy, let me just stop you," Dean began, grabbing his attention again. "Look, I didn't give it any thought because it doesn't need any, right? I wouldn't care if you were attracted to Octopus's or something, I like you 'cause I like you and I wont treat you weirdly."
Sam tried to stop the beaming smile that was threatening to escape come onto his face.
"You really don't mind?"
Dean shook his head, reassuring smile on his face. "No, I mean, I'd hate it if you judged me because I'm straight."
Sam didn't answer for a minute, feeling his heart slowly fall. Dean was straight, he'd never feel the way for Sam the way Sam felt about him.
After a few moments, Dean picked up on Sam's silence.
"Sammy, you all right?"
Sam merely smiled, an obviously fake smile, before he reached out and pulled Dean's wrist towards him. Dean looked at their hands, again feeling the warmth at their contact.
He watched as Sam slipped the now finished daisy chain onto his wrist before pulling away and going back to fiddling with the grass.
Dean looked at Sam, then back down to the delicate chain on his wrist, and the lingering warmth where Sam had touched him.
His eyebrows knitted together in confusion.
…
When Mary and Cas came to visit later that day, Dean was still wearing the daisy chain, it hadn't occurred to him to take it off yet.
"Hey, sweetheart." Mary greeted, making a pointed effort to ignore Dean completely and envelope Sam in a massive bear hug.
Dean frowned jokingly and felt Cas hugging his leg, Dean bent down and picked his Brother up, balancing him on his hip.
"I still love you." Cas assured him, Dean smiled hugely and hugged Cas closer. Sam and Mary broke apart laughing, before Mary punched Dean lightly on the arm.
"I guess I kinda care about you, too."
Dean arched his eyebrow. "You're in a good mood." He observed, whilst his Mother shrugged. She was joking around, she hadn't done that since Dean had been diagnosed.
"We were talking to Doctor Singer," she informed them, before turning to Sam. "Your family will be along in a minute and then we're taking you out."
"Really?" Asked Sam, "that sounds great!" He smiled happily and then looked at Dean who shrugged back at him.
"Where are we going?" He asked.
"Surprise," Mary answered, "I want to get you out of this hospital."
Dean looked down as he felt Cas's hand on his arm to see him fiddling with the daisy chain. "Pretty." He observed.
"Oh," Dean blushed, looking at Sam. But Sam looked away before Dean could catch his eye.
"How are you two feeling?" Mary asked, unaware of the awkward exchange.
"Okay." Sam said, "everything's fine. Dean's headaches having been getting worse, though."
Dean was stuck between blushing and confusion at Sam talking for him, like they were an old married couple.
Mary started talking to Dean about his headaches, worry in her voice again and Cas jumped down from Dean and ran to Sam, excitedly telling him about some new game he had but all Dean was seeing was Sam.
It occurred to him that they were practically a married couple now.
As Dean watched Sam talking with Cas, he realised he was seeing him differently, he was seeing Sam as a part of his life now. A genuine, massive part of his life and Dean didn't want him to leave it.
"Dean, are you okay?" Asked Mary, "you look a little distracted."
Sam looked up to him and Dean suddenly noticed his brown eyes, so different from his Mom's green ones and Cas's blues ones, just like their Dad. But Dean didn't need to think about his Dad right now.
Dean forced himself to look down at his Mother. "I'm fine." He said, "I just..." he struggled to think of a viable excuse.
"I needed the bathroom."
"Oh, okay." Although there was something in Mary's voice that suggested she knew he was lying, he didn't even bother looking at Sam as he crossed out of the ward and walked to the bathroom.
The bathroom was empty so instead of ducking into a cubicle he leaned against one of the sinks.
He rubbed his face with his hands.
Do I have feelings for Sam?
The obvious answer was no, he couldn't. But there was something niggling in the back of his mind screaming yes.
Dean didn't understand, he was straight, he'd only ever liked girls. But when he looked at Sam, he could feel something he couldn't put his finger on, which meant it was different from when he was with a girl. But now he thought about it, he'd never really had feelings for any girl that ever been beyond sexual interest.
The way he felt about Sam was...God, he was going crazy.
Dean turned on the cold tap and splashed the freezing water across his face.
The way he felt about Sam was maybe someone he didn't just want to bed...Oh God, was he hearing himself?
Want to bed Sammy? He was a kid, who was sick, who was his friend. Jesus.
Dean stared at himself in the mirror for a long time, taking a long hard look.
This wouldn't go any further, besides, he'd be checking out soon anyways so it couldn't.
Checking out and leaving Sam on his own...
"Oh, for fucks sake!" Dean exclaimed out loud, louder than he should have.
If he didn't have a slowly developing, Dean-destroying tumour he would have punched himself.
He quickly walked out of the bathroom before he could argue with himself any more.
…
"So, the big plan was to take one guy with a tumour and another guy who is H.I.V positive out hiking?" Dean whispered to Sam, who elbowed him lightly.
Despite everything, however, Dean felt so much better for being back in his own clothes. His torn jeans felt amazing.
Sam couldn't keep his eyes off of Dean, if Sam thought he was beautiful in their clinical white outfit, it was nothing compared to how he looked normally.
Tight t-shirt, torn jeans and the wind was mussing his hair. God, he looked sexy. But it only succeeded to make him feel worse. Dean was straight, there was no random hope that they could ever become anything more than what they were.
Sam tried not to let himself dwell on it though, he had Dean's friendship. That was a lot more than he could ask for.
"I think they just want to get us as far away from the hospital as possible." Sam reasoned, avoiding a tree root.
"The hospital is all right." Dean grumbled, and Sam laughed. A happy, unhindered laugh that made Dean smile.
"You really hate the outdoors, don't you?" He asked, still laughing.
Dean shrugged, looking ahead again, the last thing he needed was to trip up and fall on his face. "It's okay, it's just never really been my thing."
Sam scrutinized Dean. "So, what is your thing?" He asked, "all the time we've known each other and you've never really talked about yourself, what sort of stuff do you like?"
Dean shrugged again, not expecting the question. Again, no one really cared enough to want to know these sort of things.
"I'm kind of boring," he admitted, "I don't really do much." He saw Sam roll his eyes. "But I don't though," he defended, "I mean, I like horror films and spending time with Cas and playing football, but that's about it. Plus, I don't even do any of that anymore. But..."
"But?" Sam prompted.
Dean turned to him. "I spend time with you now, and I like that."
Sam smiled slightly and Dean smiled back but then he was tumbling to the ground.
"Dean!" Sam called out, sounding shocked.
Dean grumbled as he ate dirt. "Jesus."
Sam was by his side immediately, lifting his shoulder and dragging Dean to his feet, trying to be gentle at the same time.
"Sammy!" Began Dean, falling back onto his knees. Sam knelt next to him, concerned. "Don't worry, I'm all right."
Sam threw his arms around Dean's shoulders and clung onto him, "you scared me."
Dean laughed a little, trying not to sound as comfortable as he felt. "We're in a forest and I have no co-ordination, I'm gonna fall on my face a few times."
Sam let him go, giggling a little bit before he stood and held a hand out to Dean. Normally, Dean would have batted it away but he dutifully excepted the help and allowed Sam to haul him to his feet.
Dean was impressed, not only was Sam sick but Dean also had a good 14 pounds on him, the kid was strong.
"You two all right?" Came a sudden voice, it seemed Gabriel had doubled back for them. He saw the pair holding hands and he smirked. "Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something?"
Sam dropped Dean's hand immediately, cheeks rosy. "No, sorry. We just...we're coming."
"Okay." Said Gabriel, looking more than a little perplexed at his Brother's behaviour before turning back and walking to catch up with everyone else.
Sam and Dean turned away from each other and continued walking.
"So, I guess it's cool being away for a little bit." Said Sam after a while.
"Yeah. Sometimes that ward feels like a prison."
"Yeah," Sam agreed, "it did."
Did. Dean reflected to himself, hoping that didn't mean what he thought it meant.
He looked at Sam, trying to pinpoint his exact emotions. He supposed the kid was attractive, in a guy way. He had nice hair and big eyes and...Dean shook his head to himself, looking away.
Sam saw this and turned to him. "What?" He asked, grinning.
Dean turned back, saw Sam smiling and realised that was it. His smile, the way his eyes lit up. Sam had a happiness and an optimism that made him almost glow.
"Nothing." Said Dean, quickly turning away again.
Shortly after that, the pair caught up with the rest of the group. Cas wriggled out of his Mother's arms and ran to Sam, Jess followed him, shyly smiling up at Dean.
Dean presented the little girl with one of his most dazzlingly smiles and she turned away, embarrassed, and ran back to her Mother.
"You shouldn't do that," Sam berated from beside him.
"I was just smiling at her." Dean defended.
Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I don't think you know what your smiles do to people."
Dean grinned to himself, eyes hitting the floor again. A few minutes later, Cas ran to him and, distracted, Dean stumbled forward.
Sam watched as Dean lost his balance again, though he caught himself before he fell, Sam could still see the burning embarrassment on his face. He forced himself not to say anything.
"So, Dean," Sam's Mom chipped in after a while, Dean was pretty sure she was called Ellen. "How old are you?"
"19." Dean answered, whilst Sam made an embarrassed face at his Mom.
"What?" She asked defensively, "I was curious. Dean, I thought you were in your twenties."
Dean laughed embarrassed before his own Mother cut in. "Dean's always looked older than he actually is, he gets it from his Father."
"Are you and Dean's Father separated?" Asked Ellen, the utmost sincerity in her voice.
"Err, no." Mary answered, trying to keep the awkwardness out of her voice but Dean could hear right through it.
He kept his eyes on the ground, away from Sam.
"Actually, My husband passed away six years ago." Mary admitted.
Gabriel's eyes hit the floor, Sam's Dad, who Dean was pretty sure was called Michael, looked away. Ellen looked saddened and more than a little embarrassed. "Oh, I'm so sorry."
No one said anything.
"So, he must have passed away when Cas was..."
"Before he was born." Said Mary.
Everyone lapsed into silence. Sam was staring at Dean but he refused to look back at him, the last thing he needed was that.
Everyone continued walking but Dean hung back, falling behind everyone else. Sam glanced worryingly back, Dean had never talked about his Father before, Sam assumed they just didn't get along, he never thought he was dead.
Dean's lack of faith in Humanity seemed to suddenly make more sense.
"So." Began Sam, falling into step with Dean. "You never said about your Dad."
Dean shrugged, "there isn't much to say. Mom was pregnant, I was just a kid. He died."
Sam tried for a reassuring smile but nothing came. "So, I guess that mean's that Cas..."
Dean nodded. "Yeah, he never had a Dad. He had me, I know that's not much."
Sam shook his head. "You know what, one of these days, I will punch you."
Dean's brow furrowed in confusion. "Punch me?" He asked, perplexed. "Why?"
"Because," Sam continued, "Cas is a great kid, and he loves you. You did well."
Sam could swear he saw a ghost of a smile on Dean's lips.
"So, what about you?" Asked Dean suddenly.
"What about me what?" Asked Sam.
"When you get out, what are you gonna do?" Sam looked over Dean, he seemed so earnest it almost made Sam laugh.
"I'm going to go back to school, I'm gonna..." Sam lost track of what he was saying, feeling a sharp pain in his stomach. He stopped walking for a moment, willing the pain to go away, but it just kept getting stronger. Sam stumbled forward, clutching his side. He felt like his lungs were shrivelling inside him and all the breath he had was being sucked out of his body.
Sam's vision began to cloud over and the ground beneath him swam.
"Dean!" Sam called out blindly, fear in his voice. He could hear noises, but he couldn't make out what they were. Silhouettes swam into focus for a split second before darkness caved in on Sam and the last thing he felt was himself falling.
…
Dean watched in horror as Sam passed out in his arms. He called out for anyone, anyone to come running back and figure out what was wrong.
He gently shook Sam, but the kid wasn't moving. "Sammy," he whispered, "Oh, God, please, Sammy..."
Sam's father was the first one to reach him, he was saying something, something loud and desperate but Dean couldn't hear him. All he could hear was his own pulse inside his head. Michael took Sam from Dean and Dean stood there, feeling empty and alone as Sam's father checked for a pulse, desperation on his face.
"He's only passed out..." Dean tried to say, but his voice was drowned out by a combination of every one else in the party finding Sam and a headache bordering on migraine that had decided to develop in Dean's temple.
He fought off the pain as he walked towards his Mother. "Mom, call an ambulance." He said, feeling Cas clinging onto his leg.
"Already done." Came Gabriel's voice from far away.
Dean knelt down next to his little Brother, the pain got worse when he got lower to the ground. "It's all right, Cas. Sam is gonna be okay."
Cas hugged Dean and Dean hugged him back, more for himself, until the ambulance came.
Dean heard the sirens in the distance and gently let go of Cas. He tried to answer the confusion in Cas's eyes.
"Cas, buddy. I need to go with Sammy in the ambulance, okay?"
Cas nodded at Dean, Dean patted him on the arm and stood up, the pain in his head subsided a little bit.
Dean watched as the paramedics swarmed all around them, pushing Michael gently out of the way as they put Sam onto the stretcher, feeling like he was going to vomit.
Dean followed numbly, like a robot, as they wheeled the stretcher to the ambulance that they had parked at the edge of the wood.
"I'm gonna go with him." Dean said to the paramedics, not thinking straight.
"No, I'm going to go with him!" Ellen interrupted, deep-set pain clear on her face. Dean opened his mouth to protest, not thinking about anything but the kid in the stretcher that needed him, before Gabriel interrupted the pair of them.
"Mom, Dean's right," he said, "he should go. Sam's going to want him to be with him when he wakes up."
Ellen looked like she was going to argue, but she didn't say anything. Dean didn't care about the implications of that sentence. He looked gratefully at Gabriel who nodded back to him, if Dean wasn't in such a state of worry with a skull-splitting headache to deal with, he'd realise that Gabriel was a pretty awesome Brother. He followed the stretcher and hauled himself into the back of the ambulance next to Sammy.
The ambulance was uncomfortable, he'd had the luxury of never actually having to ride in one himself, but he quickly realised it wasn't an experience he wanted to repeat. He perched himself as close to Sam's stretcher as possible, looking at his empty face actually hurt but he forced himself. He looked at Sam's face, looking peaceful in his unconscious state. Dean let his face fall into his hands.
"Sammy, this is stupid, if we'd never come here this wouldn't have happened...please be okay. Please be okay."
It never occurred to him how profoundly effected he was at Sam being like this, about how much he cared.
…
Dean was, once again, sat in his bed in the hospital ward. He hadn't bothered to change out of his jeans yet, he hadn't done much.
When they'd got to the hospital they'd taken Sam away from him and Doctor Singer had taken Dean back to the ward. He told Dean that Sam would be okay.
Dean had just shrugged and went straight to his bed, he was emotionally exhausted and logic dictated there was nothing more he could do for Sam, despite the fact he had an insane urge to stay with Sam the whole night, the Doctor's wouldn't let him. The ward was different when Sam wasn't there. It was cold.
Dean remembered Sam's reaction to him saying it felt like a prison.
It did.
Dean looked around at the clinical, headache-inducing whiteness.
It does.
Dean stood slowly, making sure no Nurse or someone was going to wander in. He undid his belt buckle and slipped his jeans off, kicking them under his bed. He suddenly felt more at home, it was sad.
Dean climbed under the covers in only his boxers, shivering slightly at the cold contact of the covers against his bare legs.
He tried to lie back, letting his head hit the pillow, suddenly it didn't seem so comfortable anymore.
He tossed and turned for hours but he couldn't fall asleep, it was well past midnight when Dean checked his watch and Sam still wasn't back in the ward, he wouldn't get to sleep until he knew Sam was okay.
Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling over-heated, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and intended to fling it to the floor, but it made contact with his night stand and knocked off a book, it thumped as it hit the floor.
Dean sighed loudly and got out of the bed, leaning down to pick the book off the floor, he noticed the slightly squashed daisy chain Sam had made him earlier by the side of the book. It must have fallen underneath.
He wanted to shake his head and laugh at how stupid it was, a pansy little daisy chain, but for some uncharacteristic reason, he just couldn't.
Dean knew he'd never been one for words, but as he sat back on the bed, looking at the daisy chain, still alive and fresh, he realised it was like some bizarre metaphor for Sam.
Something fresh and alive that would slowly wilt.
The idea made Dean feel almost physically sick and he hated himself for thinking it.
He wouldn't be able to handle it, he physically wouldn't be able to handle Sam dying, but he'd never expected it to effect him as badly as it did.
Dean rubbed his face with his hands, eyes sore. He'd told himself from the start it was only a matter of time before one of them went down, but it should have been him. Sam was always gonna be the one who was gonna get through this.
"I'm such a fucking mess." Dean said to himself, irritation and exhaustion in his voice. The fact that he was talking to himself practically naked in a dark, empty hospital ward only proved this.
Dean had no idea what he was supposed to do without Sam, without his friend and his guide. Without the one thing that actually got him through the day and not lie there and be defeated all the time.
He sat on the edge of his bed, cold and alone, feeling more useless than he'd ever felt, feeling just like he'd felt when his Dad had died. He needed Sam more than he'd ever needed anyone and he'd only just realised it, and now it could be too late.
Dean allowed himself to fall back against the bed, feeling helpless tears sliding down his face. Dean closed his eyes in pain as he realised something he should have realised a long time ago.
He was in love with Sam.