AN: This is a little more fast forwarded because all I could see happening is more of the same sad dreary stuff. That happens. So basically Cas has been staying in school at this point and Dean and he have been a little more comfortable in public. I guess when you're dying, what people think of you hand holding with some boy doesn't really matter anymore. Sorry for the long wait. Again. Rewriting's a bitch.

Time went on and Cas wasn't getting any better.

They'd tried to hide it from the rest of the school, even when Cas was forced to let Dean help him up the stairs when it was too hard to breathe. It was hard for Dean to watch the love of his life grow so weak and not being able to cater to his every need.

He wondered how hard it was for Cas, the person all this was actually happening to.

"You okay?" Dean asked after they'd climbed the stairs to the most deserted bathroom in the school. He gripped at Cas's elbows, basically holding up his thinning body.

Cas wheezed. He wasn't sure how long he could take of this. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Dean nodded even though he knew Cas was lying. Cas wanted to be independent. Dean understood that when his boyfriend decided to walk into the bathroom alone and made him wait outside.

Wet coughing echoed from the small room into the hallway. Dean went to get a drink from the water fountain around the corner to muffle the sound at least a little bit.

The thing about when someone has throat cancer is that when they cough sometimes there's blood. The first time Dean ever witnessed it, it scared the shit out of him. He asked Cas what he could do, what he needed, but Cas just reminded him of his promise and closed the bathroom door as he puked from chemo they started last week. Even if Cas wanted him to help, there was nothing Dean could do. You can't put a band-aid on the inside of a throat. You just have to wait for the medicine to kick in and start fighting.

"Hey, faggot."

Dean lifted his finger from button that brought water, but kept his head down.

"Someone's talking to you," Michael sneered from somewhere down the empty hallway. "I suggest you address your superior."

Dean was surprised that Michael even knew the word superior. "What do you want, asshole?" he spoke into the fountain spout.

Michale tisked, closer now. "Just your name on a tombstone, but I guess that won't be happening soon."

Wiping his mouth with the end of his sleeve, Dean stood up again. He was shocked to see he didn't have his goonies waiting around the corner. "I'm not really in the mood for this right now, Michael."

"Yeah, well I'm not in the mood for all this touchy feely crap you're doing with your boyfriend," Michael said. He kept walking closer.

Dean tilted his head. "You jealous?"

Michale scoffed. "Oh, please," he said venomously. "It's disgusting to look at. Everyone wants you to stop."

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Everyone, huh?"

Suddenly, a loud retching came from the bathroom.

Michael smiled. "That your boyfriend?"

Dean tensed slightly. He was certain that Jo hadn't told anybody, so how could Michael know?

His silence was taken as an affirmation, which only made Michael's smile more evil. "You know, you should tell him that image isn't everything."

"What does that have to…" It dawned on Dean that Michael knew he was sick. Just not the right diagnosis. "He's just isn't feeling good." It was nearing Thanksgiving. People were getting sick left and right.

Michael rolled his eyes. "You think I'm an idiot, Winchester? I caught him throwing up his lunch three times last week."

Dean decided he needed to turn the conversation in another directions. "So you're stalking him now? Are you sure you aren't gay?"

Before Michael could respond with that fuming face of his, the door of the bathroom slammed behind Cas. The two arguing boys stared at him.

"Dean," Cas acknowledged. Since seeing Michael, he was trying to keep his composure. It was obvious that all the wanted was to crumple onto the floor.

Knowing how mad Cas would get, Dean didn't allow himself to come to his boyfriend's aid. Instead he painfully watched the pale boy walk to him unevenly. He'd never looked worse.

Michael must've noticed, because he shut up right away.

"Dean," Cas repeated once he was standing right next to the two others. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, pressing enough weight down to make Dean waver in balance. "I suggest that you take me to the hospital."

Then, Cas did something amazing.

He vomited all over the front of Michael's letterman jacket.