Thanks for the reviews that you have given so far. I'm just overwhelmed by how much of a reception I have gotten for this story. Keep reading. Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's a bit out of Sam character, but it is what it is.
Dean walked back down to the room where his brother lay, and looked in on him for a couple of minutes. For one split second, Dean felt angry that Sam had kept this from him. Didn't they already have this conversation about keeping secrets? He reigned it in, though. Sam needed him to be strong, and he couldn't be angry at him. He knew now. They could deal with things as a team now. He went over to Sam and pulled the blanket up a little more. His baby brother was shivering as if he were cold, and he probably needed another blanket, but Dean couldn't go get one right now. He needed to make a phone call to their father, make the old man come there now. Sam wasn't in the best of shape, and he could be dying. Dad needed to be there. He brushed the hair out of Sammy's face and softly put his hand on his brother's forehead. The fever was still there, although his forehead did feel a whole lot cooler. The drugs that they had given him were working. "I'll be right back, Sammy." He whispered before leaving the room.
All the way down on the elevator, he thought about how he would phrase this to their dad. He hoped the man answered this time, but he doubted he would. When he stepped out of the building, he was hit with the brightness of the sun against the snow. It was wrong. What right did it have to be so damn sunny when his brother was feeling so bad?
Breaking out of his mood, he went back to the place where he had last made his phone call. He needed his dad to pick up the phone more than anything...almost anything. Sammy up to full par would be nice, too.
Dialing the numbers, he once again waited as it rang. When it hit the voicemail, his anger flared up. His dad had to have gotten the voicemail already, and he couldn't even pick up. "Look, dad, it's me again. I just got done talking to the doctor. He said that Sam has Leukemia, Cancer! He said that it's had a while to progress. You need to get down here. Sam's really sick and he needs you. Hell, I need you. I can't go through this with him alone. Please, just come, okay? We're in Milwaukee. It's the St. Joseph Medical Center. I have to go back to Sam, but just come, okay?" He said gruffly to his father and closed the phone with a snap. He broke into a light jog to try to get back in with his brother and out of this cold.
Entering the building, he once again thought about the whole coat thing. Brr, it was cold out there. Why would someone intentionally settle down to an apple-pie kinda life in this place?
Walking back into the room where his brother lay, still sleeping, Dean decided how he was going to handle things with him. He sat down in the chair that he had abandoned this morning, and took his brother's hand in his. Leaning in, quiet enough not to draw the nurses but loud enough to get his brother's attention, he yelled "Wake up!"
Sam was immediately awake, eyes open as far as they would go and looking at his brother bewilderedly. "What if I was someone or something else? You'd be dead now." Dean pointed out.
Sam shook his head. "No, Dean, I know it's you even in my sleep. I trust you."
Dean smiled and nodded his head; those were the words he had been waiting for. "Speaking of trust, what's with the lying to me about what was going on? I was concerned last night, not knowing what was going on, but you...you knew all along. Hell, you knew since the moment I picked you up from Stanford." He had stood up by now, and was trying to look angry.
"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam said, sounded pitiful even to himself. This was it. This was the moment where Dean decided that he was going to leave and let him deal with this on his own. He felt the anxiety coming, knew he wouldn't be able to hide it for much longer.
"I'm sorry! Am I just supposed to forgive you? Sam, you knew you had this for over a year, let it lay there and get worse, as you did nothing. Why?" Dean already forgave his brother; he didn't understand, but he forgave. He just needed to get Sam to talk to him.
"Dean, you don't understand. I found out and the first thing on my mind was how to keep it from you and Dad and even Jess. I couldn't deal with it, and I didn't want the people I love to be afraid or to have to see me sick. I was-am- afraid. I don't want to deal with that fear or with this, and so yes, I hid it. I'm sorry." He looked down at his hands. Dean sighed and sat back down, drawing the chair closer to the bed. He didn't like it, but he knew where his brother was coming from. Their dad had instilled it in them to kill their emotions, and this was where it ended up.
"I don't like it, but I forgive you." He told Sam to make him feel better.
Sam tilted his head and looked at Dean. "You do?" He had been expecting to be left on his own, after all. He knew he had lied by omission, and was ready to face things.
"Well, yeah, that's what I do." Dean said, flashing his brother a big smile.
"Let's see what's on TV." Sam said, trying to break out of the emotional moment.
"Ooh, maybe we can find Oprah." Dean said, and then shrugged. They would be fine. They would work things out. If it weren't for all the machines surrounding Sam and how weak he looked, Dean could almost forget the situation they were in.
After a while, Sam's eyes were once again closed. He looked so broken, Dean just wished that their dad would come. Together, they could beat this thing, make everything okay.
Hope you liked it.
Anna: Oops! Sorry about the mistake in "Asylum." I guess I missed the fact that his nose was bleeding.