Well shit, he'd been caught. Dean had thought for certain he could talk to the Stanford mythology professor without getting caught. This Ivy League campus was big enough it was silly to think that he would run into Sam. Naturally, his unholy Winchester luck had other ideas and he had to lie quick. "Hey there Sammy, you look like you've seen a ghost."
Sam blinked a few times trying to wrangle his thoughts. "Dean are you…"
"Never better, little brother." Dean cut Sam's question off with a wave of his hand. Sam's brow furrowed and Dean could tell his brother didn't believe him.
Sam could tell he was tiptoeing on a touchy subject and even though he wanted answers he wasn't sure pushing Dean in a crowded area was the best idea. "What are you doing here, man?"
Dean sighed, the ball of anxiety in his chest loosening a tad. He could work with this, anything to change the subject about his failing health. "Ah nothing major, just finished up with the mythology professor. I needed some information and she was the closest resource I had."
Unfortunately, Dean's answer had the opposite effect that he had hoped for. Sam's face flushed pale and his eyes widened in alarm. "Wait you're still hunting?" Sam hissed, eyes darting around the campus as if just saying the word would summon an army of monsters.
Annoyance swept over Dean and he yanked his shoulder from his brother's grip, stumbling over his feet a bit. He didn't feel like he needed to defend his lifestyle, this was his life and his choice. "Of course, I'm hunting, it's the family business in case you forgot."
Sam flinched slightly at the jab, but he refused to back down on this. He knew what Dean was trying to do, he was trying to deflect and start a fight instead of talking. "How could you still be hunting when you look…"
"Look like what, Sam?" Dean bit out, voice raising in anger. He put a hand to his temple when his vision began to swim as he started to feel himself getting worked up. The issue was Dean wasn't sure who he was exactly getting angry at, Sam or himself. He was angry at Sam for leaving and never looking back. He was angry that his brother never called or visited, and he was angry that Sam was acting all concerned. Yet he was also mad at himself for being caught, he was mad that he had cancer again and he wasn't beating it, he was mad that he couldn't tell Sam. Dean was tired of being angry.
Sam threw his hands up in defeat, his face flushing with frustration. "Fine Dean you look like shit. You look like you haven't had a decent meal or nights sleep in months. I just wish you would talk to me."
The blinding sunlight dimmed as a cloud lazily rolled over it. Dean shuddered slightly missing the warmth and comfort of the sun. Sam must have noticed as he looked questioningly at Dean. It would be so easy just to let the cat out of the bag and let Sam in. Dean would be lying if he said he hadn't considered it and he wanted too. But if he gave in now then the past 2 years would have been for nothing. Sam looked good, life has clearly treated him well, and he finally looked happy. He had no right to drag Sam back into his living hell. Dean sadly shook his head, he reached up and gave his brother a light affectionate slap on the cheek. "Don't Sam, don't start caring now. It's nothing." Turning his back Dean started to walk away from Sam, from a life he knew he couldn't be a part of.
"Dean, Dean wait!"
Dean could hear his brother's footsteps come up fast behind him, unfortunately in that moment fate decided to kick him while he was down. A wave of dizziness washed over him forcing Dean to clamp his eyes shut and breath deeply through his nose. Fucking chemo!
As Sam approached his brother, he could see Dean swaying and tilting dangerously to the right. His eyes were closed, and his face had impossibly flushed even paler. Sam wrapped his arms tightly around Dean's trembling shoulders. "Woah, Dean, hang on."
Sam led Dean over to a nearby bench and helped him sit. Sam was growing more impatient and worried by the second, Dean had yet to open his eyes and his breathing was fast and labored. "You can't tell him this is nothing!"
Dean could hear the desperation in Sam's voice and he forcibly cracked an eye open in the hopes of calming his brother's growing panic. The world slowly began to stop its rotating game and Dean was able to focus on Sam's puppy dog eyes. Sam's own held the promise of unending questions and determination. Dean was undoubtably screwed.
"You aren't going to let this go, are you?" Dean scoffed in frustration when his annoying little brother shook his head no. "You never did know when to leave well enough alone." Sam said nothing, he only stared at Dean expectantly. Dean ran a tired hand through his hair, he logically knew it was only a matter of time before Sam found out but he was just as stubborn, he would keep his secret for as long as he could.
"I promise you Sammy, this isn't that exciting." His green eyes wandered to bright blue sky and he smiled almost sadly. "This won't last that much longer." He whispered.
Sam didn't like the way that Dean said that, his tone was oddly tired and accepting, it made Sam's blood run cold. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Dean dropped his gaze and shrugged, placing his hands on his knees, he hoisted himself to his feet. Again, the world tilted on its axis and Dean cursed. Sam caught him by the shoulder and steadied him. "Dean maybe I should take you to a hospital."
"No!" Dean growled out before letting out deep coughs. "I'm not spending anymore time there than I have too."
Sam caught the slip, Dean had just admitted he had been in the hospital, this was more serious than he thought. "The doctors could help!" Sam lead on, hoping Dean hadn't caught on to his admission.
Dean coughed again tasting copper in his mouth. "Not happening!" He rasped out, wiping quickly at any bloody spittle before Sam could notice. "Just give me a minute and I'll be good to go and get out of your hair." Dean's torso was heaving as he struggled to catch his breath, fingers digging into Sam's shoulder. Sam was frozen in panic, not sure what to do or how to help. After a few moments the episode passed, both brothers silent, each waiting for the other to break the uncomfortable tension.
Sam could tell that his brother wasn't going to give on his secret, at least not now. He could also see that Dean was weak and struggling but the stubborn asshole wouldn't dare ask for help. He would do what Dean does best, runaway to lick his wounds in a self-imposed exile. Even now Sam could see his brother searching for a way to weasel his way away from Sam. Sam quickly considered his options but the answer was clear, he knew what he needed to do.
"Listen Sam…"
"What are we hunting?" Sam cut him off. He gripped Dean's arm tightly in his hand, part of it to keep him steady and part to make sure his brother wouldn't bolt.
Dean whipped his head up to look at his brother in shock. "What did you say?" Clearly his ears had deceived him, there was no way that Sam just said what he did. Sam had literally run away from his family and his life to get away from hunting, why would he say this now?
"I'm going with you." Sam stated determinedly his tone leaving no room for questions.
Dean weakly tried to pull his arm from his brother and failed. "No, you aren't!" He cried indignantly, his heart pounding as mixed emotions flooded him. Only in his dreams had this moment played out and now that it was here, he didn't know what to do.
Sam ignored Dean and gently pulled on his arm, leading him towards the parking lot. When they reached the student parking Sam paused to take in the site of their dad's shining 1997 Chevy Impala, happy memories flashing through his mind. Dean finally yanked his arm from Sam. "I mean it Sam, just let this go."
Sam only rolled his eyes and dangled his brother's keys in front of Dean's face. "And I mean it! You aren't going to tell me what's going on so I'm coming with you to make sure you don't get yourself killed." Dean's hands flew to his pockets to find them empty; the prick had picked his pockets! Sam gave his brother a wicked grin as he pulled open the Impala's door the familiar creaking sound filling him with warmth. "House rules, Dean, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cake hole."
Author Notes: Please comment to let me know what you think! Take care!