Author note: I am not a doctor, what I know about cancer is from witnessing family members battle this horrible disease and from research.

Dean Winchester was many things son, brother, hunter, cancer patient. Never in his 26 years of life did he think he would add cancer to his resume. It started 2 years ago shorty after Sam left for Stanford, Dean had come down with a cold that he just could not shake. After a month of non-stop coughing and miserable sleepless nights John ordered him to the doctors. After a quick exam with concerned cautious looks, followed by an x-ray and blood work to confirm, Dean heard the life changing words.

"I'm sorry son, we found cancer."

Now Dean is about as tough as they come but nothing can really prepare a person for this type of fight. Monsters are easy, you can see them, touch them, and if you can touch it, you can kill it. Cancer is a completely different ball game. You can't see or touch it, the battle rages within you. Dean listened to the information and collected the many pamphlets shoved at him. He left the doctor with his head held high and texted his dad, All good!

Dean drove away that night with no destination in particular, his mind buzzing with facts, statistics, and what if's. One thing that was clear though, Sam and his dad were not going to know, this was his fight and he could handle it on his own. When the Impala finally stopped Dean found himself at Bobby Singer's house, the gruff old man welcomed him with open arms. Little was said even after Dean spilled the beans, Bobby's only requirement; Dean would stay with him until his treatment was finished.

Bobby was a god send during the treatment, he would comfort Dean when Dean was violently sick after chemo and encouraged him when he felt like quitting. Through many doctor visits, hospital admissions, and sleepless nights Bobby never complained, and he never left. He was the constant that Dean needed to come out victorious. Finally, after 6 months of treatment both hunters breathed a sigh of relief, the scans had come back clean. Dean was sure that he had won his fight and that he could safely put cancer in his rear view-mirror. He did just that for 16 months and Dean didn't think of it anymore that he needed to. Then 2 months ago the cough came back with vengeance, Dean tried to convince himself it was just a cold, but that was impossible when the cough turned bloody.

Dean sat in the doctor's office his world crashing in on him, there was no denying the x-rays and the cloudy masses peppering his lungs. Stage 4 small cell lung cancer, aggressive and more often than not, fatal. Dean cussed his shitty luck, drove home and got drunk. The doctors had told him that this diagnosis was bleak, but they were optimistic. Dean scoffed at their empty assurances; he knew his chances were almost zero. Still Dean made the decision to continue hunting maybe if he was lucky a monster would kill him before the cancer did.

~Present Day

Dean grumbled as he flipped through his dad's journal trying to make sense of the new case his dad had sent him. His right arm itched horribly at the IV site and his body was wracked with icy shivers. Dean hated chemo day, but this was the only time to fit it in on his way to Jericho and refill his medications. Dean sighed, rubbing his tired eyes, the life of a cancer patient.

"Alright handsome, you're all finished!" Dean looked up to see a friendly elderly nurse standing over him pushing buttons on his IV pump. The woman wore a bright blue dress that went down to her knees, her silver hair was pulled back into a snug bun. She wore a sunny smile and a comforting disposition as she went about her work stopping the drip. That was one thing about oncology nurses, they always went out of their way to be kind. Dean couldn't help but wonder if it was because they knew most of their patients were dead men walking.

"Hey Gladys, if you're going to hit on me maybe you should offer to buy me dinner first." Dean winked at her flirtatiously.

Gladys laughed and playfully swatted his shoulder. "Dean Winchester, you are positively horrible!"

"And that's why you love me so much!" Dean had met a lot of nurses in his life and Gladys was one of his all time favorites. She was efficient at her job, but she was one of the few that treated her patients like a person and nit just another sick body.

"Maybe if I was 40 years younger." Gladys paused a faraway look in her eye as if she was imagining that scenario. She grinned, shaking her head and refocused. "But I don't know if you would have been able to handle me."

Dean's eyebrows shot up and Gladys cackled as she bandaged his arm. "But I would have loved the challenge." He retorted.

The nurse chuckled and went about checking his vitals and jotting down information into his chart. "Alright dear, I have you down for the same time next week. You know the drill, any high fevers, unusual bleeding etc. come straight in."

"Will do, honey." Dean nodded rolling his sleeve down before shakily getting to his feet.

Gladys frowned as she watched the sick young man's silent struggle. Her heart ached for him, no one deserved cancer especially those that got it so young. Dean caught her starting and raised an eyebrow in question.

"I'm sorry sweety, I just hate to see you going through all of this alone. Are you sure there is no one we could call?"

"No, they don't need to know. I've been alone a while now, even before I got sick. I beat this once before by myself and I can do it again." Dean said with finality. "Besides, I'm not alone, I have you." He shot his nurse a mischievous wink.

Gladys rolled her eyes tossing away the IV tubes into the hazard bin. "You know that's not the same thing."

"It is what it is." Dean sighed, shrugging on his brown leather jacket, ignoring the ever loosening fit. Taking the nurses hand in his own he gave it a slight squeeze. Gladys couldn't help but notice the cool tremble of his hand. "I'll see you next week."

She walked him to the door where Dean paused. He didn't turn to look at her and Gladys had to strain to hear him. "Thank you for caring, even if it's only because it's your job." The young man didn't wait around for her to give a response, he shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets and ambled down the hall.

Gladys watched him go, her lips trembled as emotion knotted in her chest. It was hard getting attached to patients just to watch them die a slow death. Dean was one of those patients that a nurse couldn't help but get close too. The nurse's eyes teared and she brushed at the moisture in helpless frustration. There had to be someone out there for Dean, to help carry him through this. She only wished he would just call them.

~Sam

Sam stepped outside onto the stairs of the lecture building and took a deep breath relishing the beautiful summer day. Shifting the strap of his backpack higher up his shoulder he smiled his good mood almost as blinding as the sun.

Sam Winchester's life was perfect. He was at the college of his dreams, aced his last LSAT, has amazing friends, and was about to propose to the love of his life. The only downside was throughout all his accomplishment there was one person he wanted to call, his brother Dean. Ok, so change that, Sam Winchester's life is mostly perfect. Everyday there was something that Sam wanted to share with his older brother. There were many times he had his phone in hand, ready to dial his number but he always ended up shoving the device away.

Sam had made his choice and Dean had made his. Sam decided to leave, and Dean stayed. Sam shook his head trying to push those thoughts away not wanting them to sour his good mood. Sucking in another deep breath Sam basked in the warmth of the day. Striding down the stairs Sam let his mind wander to anything other than his dysfunctional family life. He waved to friends as he passed through campus and typed out a quick text to Jessica that he was headed to the coffee shop to study.

Sam was just about to hit send when an eerily familiar brown leather jacker caught his attention. The jacket stuck out like a sore thumb in this warm, late August, California day. Everyone was dressed to match the weather, t-shirts, shorts, and flip-flops. Sam moved closer to the stranger and realized he was staring at the back of his brother's head. Forgetting his message Sam shoved the phone in his pocket and took off after his brother.

"Hey Dean," Sam called placing a hand on his brother's shoulder turning him around only to be stunned into silence. Dean's eyes seemed sunken and dull and the skin around his eyes was dark and bruised. His cheek bones looked too sharp and the skin pulled too tight. The earlier feelings of confusion and happiness disappeared, now all Sam felt was fear, was Dean sick?