Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural, or the characters, and chances are that I never will.

Thanks so much to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter!

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Enjoy!

Sam had called Marshall on his way to school, and he was waiting at the kerb when Dean stopped the car. Sam checked that the beanie he'd settled for wearing to hide his thinning hair was firmly in place before he stepped out of the car, and said goodbye to Dean before he greeted Marshall. "Hey, thanks for waiting, I know I'm late."

"No problem, man. How're you doing?"
"Alright, I guess." Sam replied as he moved to get his bag from the backseat, only to be stopped by Marshall.

"I'll get it, Sam." Marshall said as he sidestepped Sam, opened the back door of the impala, and picked up Sam's bag.

Sam made a brief attempt to argue, but Marshall stopped him by saying. "It's no problem, Sam. Let's get to class."

Sam walked into Ms Calla's homeroom, closely followed by Marshall a minute later, and as soon as he pushed the door open, the room, previously buzzing with activity fell completely silent, chalk being scraped on the board was the only sound remaining, and even that stopped a moment later as the teacher turned to face Sam as she said. "Sam, it's good to have you back. Take your seat."

Despite Ms Calla's attempt to minimise the awkwardness of the situation, for the rest of the class Sam could practically feel the stares and he definitely could hear the whispers surrounding him.

And it didn't stop in the classroom, as Sam and Marshall moved towards their next class, they passed several others from their group of 'friends', they slowed down, almost stopping as they passed, and as seemed to be the fashion now, what was an engaging conversation came to an abrupt halt.

Marshall stepped closer to Sam, and in a hushed whisper, he said. "Forget them, Sam. If they don't stick by you when you're sick, then they're not worth it." He made sure to put an emphasis on the last words, ensuring that the small group heard him.

If you thought it could not be any worse, you would have been wrong. Just after the last bell of the day, Sam was walking towards the carpark, where he knew Dean would be waiting, he noticed Chloe around the side of the building, too engrossed by whatever her new boyfriend was telling her, to notice Sam. He could practically feel his heart break as she leaned closer to the well built football player, and drew him into a passion filled kiss.

Sighing wearily, Sam continued on his way, and as he swung open the door of the Impala, and collapsed into the front seat, he barely even heard Dean asking. "How was your day, Sam?"

But as bad as the first day was, it got better the next day, when Sam, who was feeling stronger than the previous day, walked into homeroom, and instead of meekly taking his seat as the room went silent, he moved to the front of the room. He didn't even need to wait to get the class' attention, he already had all eyes on him.

Sam hesitated, didn't know why this was so difficult for him, he'd faced off against monsters since age ten, why was telling this group of high school students what was wrong with him, answering the questions he knew they'd have, so much harder than that? Simple he didn't really care about hunting, what he cared about was ultimately being normal, and what he was about to do was going to put that so far out of his reach.

But still, taking a deep breathe, Sam steeled himself, and said. "A few weeks ago when I broke my leg at soccer, the doctors found out that I had cancer. I've been away, and I'll be away a lot of the time for at least a few months, so I could and can have treatments." Sam paused, looking over at Marshall, who offered a small smile, he had spoken to Sam earlier, and knew what Sam was doing. Sam pulled off the beanie he was wearing, showing his formerly long hair, of which now there were only small tufts remaining. "The chemo they're giving me is making my hair fall out, it also makes me tired and sick." Ignoring the shocked expressions on both his teacher's and the class' faces, Sam finished. "Now, I just want to come into school when I'm up to it, and the last thing I need is for you all to be talking about me behind my back. If you have any questions, ask them now."

It took a second for the shock to wear off, but once it did everyone started asking Sam every question they could think of, and to the best of his ability he answered each one.

And from there he was actually surprised at how the attitude of the majority of the student body improves afterwards, instead of turning away when Sam walked past, they'd stop him, and talk to him, ask questions, offer help carrying his books to classes, tell stories of people they'd known who had cancer. Even some other members of their group came back, and while Sam let them back into his life, he didn't let himself get set up for disappointment when the next disaster hits and they back off again.

By the end of the day he was feeling stronger than he had been since he'd been diagnosed, bolstered by the support that now surrounded him. And as he sat down for dinner with Dean and their father, and was feeling well enough to actually eat the meal, instead of running for the bathroom at the mere smell, it was good.

In a contrast, just over an hour later, Sam asked Dean to help him shave off what was left of his hair, and Sam was sitting in one of the dining room chairs that Dean had moved into the bathroom, one of the many old bedsheets they'd found when they moved in, draped over his shoulders, he was all ready, when Dean did something that Sam never saw coming, as Dean plugged in the clippers, and switched them on, instead of moving towards Sam, he raised the clippers to his own head, and with a goofy grin plastered on his face, he shaved away a considerable section of his own hair.

Sam nearly jumped out of the seat in shock. "Dean!? What the hell are you doing?!"

Flicking off the clippers, Dean answered Sam jokingly. "I thought it'd be a good look, don't you?"

Sam scowled at Dean, still shocked, but starting to see what Dean's up to; he's trying to be supportive, and he's doing a pretty awesome job of it. Sam stared at the now cropped patch of Dean's hair, trying to maintain his angry expression, but within seconds he was wearing a matching grin, as he held his hand out towards the clippers, as with a laugh, he said. "It's a different look, that's for sure. You'd probably better not be planning to leave it like that. You want me to finish it for you?"

An hour later when the pair emerged from the bathroom, sporting matching shaven heads, John looked up from where he was sitting at the table, going over some research Bobby had sent him, not knowing their present situation, and upon seeing his sons, his jaw nearly hit the floor. "Dean? What did you-"

Dean stopped him before he could finish his sentence. He ran a hand over his cropped hair, as he jokingly said. "What do you think, Dad? Still gonna be a hit with the ladies?"

John just shook his head, he too falling for the infectiously good mood Dean's mysteriously found in this horrible moment.

TBC...

Thanks for reading! Please review!

I'd really love to get some ideas from people as to what they want to see. Do you want to see more brotherly moments? More sick Sam? More angst? A bit of everything?

And as always, suggestions and CONSTRUCTIVE criticism are welcome, feel free to put them in a review or PM.