So, yeah, here's the next chapter. Sorry for the hold-up. I had another chapter but re-reading it, needed to scrap it. I hope you enjoy this chapter.
Dean stood by his brother, trying to convince himself that this was helping, that chemotherapy was going to save his brother's life. They were on the third treatment, and already Sammy was having symptoms that none of them had wanted to see. The doctor had come in there over three hours ago to administer the torture treatment, and Sammy was still nauseous. He had promised them that the next time wouldn't hurt as bad, but it did. And to make matters worse, Sammy had been vomiting. He wouldn't eat, either. Just weakly pushed them away when they tried to get him to eat. There had been talk of feeding him through a tube, but Dean had tried again, gently coaxing him that he had to eat and maintain his strength so they could fight this thing. Sammy had eaten for him. It hurt him after, but he had eaten for him.
This time was just as bad, he had been sick twice in three hours and he was now laying there on the bed, rolled up in the fetal position, oblivious to anything that was going on in the world. Both John and Dean stood as guardians over the youngest Winchester, each knowing that if anything did decide to come after them, Sammy would have just as much luck in stopping it as a kitten would. Dean gently rubbed his baby brother's back, letting him know without making a sound that he was there. The headaches had gotten worse and he had complained to them of being dizzy when he brought his head up. Overall, Dean had never felt so helpless in his life. It was worse than finding his brother, knelt down on the floor, grasping his chest when Bloody Mary had tried to kill him or when that monster attacked him when he was four and Dean had to watch as he ran toward him but was scooped off the ground. He had almost lost his brother both times, but neither of them compared to how he felt now. Those times, it had been sudden and had ended almost as suddenly. He had been fine minutes after Mary had gotten to him and he had been fine a couple of days after the incident when he was four. Two days in PICU didn't measure up to the fear, desperation and helplessness from a week knowing Sam was going to die and watching as the chemo had no effect on his already weakened body. Dean knew that they would lose him; it wouldn't be without a fight, but they would lose. They were already losing.
Dean looked up at their father who stood at the other side of the bed, holding onto Sammy's hand. They shared a glance for a moment before feeling Sam try to get up. The incident that happened the first time wasn't repeated, but they knew he was trying to get to a safe place to be sick. John reached down to grab the trash can and drag the quilt away from Sam. They gave the trash can to Sam and walked away giving him time.
"Dad, this isn't helping." Dean whispered, just out of earshot of Sam. He was worried that this was making his brother worse and the sickness that had taken over him didn't help things.
"Dean, we just have to wait this out. He'll get better." John said, and once again Dean glared at him. He knew they had no other choice, but this wasn't good either. He was getting weaker and the other drugs, the ones that were supposed to help, weren't.
"We can't sit here and wait this out. Look at him!"
John sighed and was about to continue the argument when they heard Sam's voice. "Dean." It was low, barely more than a whisper although frantic, but Dean was there in a minute, ready to help his baby brother.
"Hey, how you doing?" He asked, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy. He needed to be the tough one here. If he showed weakness, then who would Sam have to turn to?
"I'm doing okay. I just wondered where you went." Sam said, looking very much lost.
"I'm right here. I didn't go anywhere."
"Can I have a Tylenol or something? I have a headache." He asked Dean in as casual a voice as he could manage.
"Can't do it, Sammy. I have no idea what they're giving you, or if what I give you could make you sicker." He felt bad, not being able to help his brother, but his hands were completely tied. A wave of helplessness came over him again as he thought about how he couldn't protect Sam against what his own body was doing. 'You know what God? I am so sick of begging. When I find you, I'm gonna beat the crap out of you.' Dean thought, remembering his thoughts in the emergency room.
"I'll be fine, Dean. It's okay to just give me a Tylenol or an Aspirin." Sam said, in his best "I know what I'm talking about" voice. If he could convince Dean to just give him something, he would feel better and be able to sleep for a while.
"How about this? I'm going to call the nurse..." He looked back at his father stifling a chuckle and grabbing the cord that controlled the TV and called the nurse. "And we're going to ask her nicely to bring you something to make your headache better. Okay?"
"Dean, if I have to ask for even a pain killer, then I'm leaving. I'm getting out of here. Bring me my clothes, please." His voice had gotten a bit stronger with anger, but it still sounded like a six year-old trying to give out orders to a bunch of adults. 'Don't do this again, little brother.'
Dean called the nurse, while Sam sat quietly, an angry look on his face. He wouldn't meet Dean's eyes and he tried to lift himself out of bed so that he could go get his own clothes. John came up from behind him and grabbed the back of the pajama gown that he was wearing, effectively pulling him back on the bed. "Listen to me, Samuel. Sometimes, you're going to have to do some things that you don't like. This is one of those times. Relax and stop fighting us on this." His voice was stern, authoritative, and no nonsense. Sam was stilled immediately, still cowed by his dad's voice. The man was treating him like a stubborn child, but he listened.
The nurse came into the room with a cheery smile, and Dean wondered if she should get an academy award or if she just hadn't heard about John Winchester yet. "Hi, I'm Nurse Emily. What seems to be the problem?" Dean flashed her a smile, thinking about flirting with her as he had with Jessica the night he saw her in Sam's kitchen, but thought better of it.
"My brother's having an extremely hard time. He's nauseous and complaining of a headache now. Is there any way we can talk to the doctor or at least give Sam an aspirin or something?" He wanted to keep up the friendly conversation and keep his father from talking.
"I can page the doctor for you, Mr. Winchester, but I'm not authorized to give him any medication unless it's specified on his chart. Drug interactions and such, you know?" She spoke to him and the clear impression that she really did feel bad. He liked this lady a lot better than some of the other nurse's that had been in there.
"Yeah, sure, that would nice. Thanks." He shot her one of his million dollar smiles and she left to go page the doctor. "See, Sammy, remember, fun? That would be fun."
He saw Sam roll his eyes. "What?"
"I'm laying here sick and you're thinking about getting laid...by my nurse. Good to see we're keeping things normal." Dean shrugged his shoulders.
The doctor came five minutes later, and spoke with Sam for a while. He explained to Sam that he would give him an Ibuprofen for the headache, but that the other symptoms should be taken care of by the drugs he had already been giving him, so he would just up the dosage. When he got up to leave, Dean grabbed Sam's hand for a second, giving it a tight squeeze to reassure him before following his dad and the doctor out to the hall.
"I don't know why he's not responding to the drugs. We'll increase the dosage and see if that doesn't help him." Dr Lambert explained to the two men standing before him.
"What are you giving him?" Dean asked point-blank. He may need to get on the laptop and get his information that way. Everyone who worked here was so stupid and useless.
"We have him on four different medications right now. That's why we have to practice extreme caution with any over-the-counter medications he gets. The medicines are: Neulasta to build up his immune system. It's a fairly new drug that-"
Dean cut him off. "Yeah, we saw it on TV. What else?"
"Compazine, that should be helping him with the nausea. I'm surprised that he's having the amount of nausea that he reports considering the dosage. I've increase the dosage, but there's only so much that we can give him. If this dosage doesn't work, I can try giving him something else, but he'll probably have a little nausea than usual. He's getting more of the chemotherapy than usual because his cancer was so out of control. Then, we're giving him-Are you okay, son?" The doctor cut off his explanation of the next drug as he looked at Dean. He had gone pale all of a sudden, having the seriousness spelled out more clearly for him. He knew it was bad, but hearing how bad made him sick to his stomach.
"Yeah, I'm fine. What else?" Dean wanted to hear all this, didn't need for the doctor to coddle him. He would be fine when he got back to Sammy.
"We're giving him Ethyol to prevent kidney damage, nerve damages, and mucous membrane inflammation. The dizziness we were talking about may be caused by this drug. It also may be the cause for some of the nausea."
Dean jumped up from his seat and moved back behind the couches they were sitting in. He walked back and forth quickly, rubbing his hand over his hair. "What you're saying is that it's not all the chemo's fault? It's the medications you're giving him to fight the side effects of the chemo. That's great."
"They all have side effects. You can't take any medication without having side effects. This is the best drug to treat a number of problems with. Would you like me to continue?" Dean looked at the man for a moment, before nodding his head, not trusting himself to unclench his jaw. He came back to sit down. "Neumega is being given to lower blood platelet counts. Basically, so that we don't have to transfuse his blood following chemo. This also could cause nausea, dizziness, and what is probably causing the headache. It also can cause blurred vision and swelling in the arms or legs." Dean put his head in his hands for a moment, remembering how desperate Sammy had sounded earlier, how he didn't know they were there even though they were only across the small room.
"Is it permanent?" Dean asked, not able to speak clearly past the lump in his throat.
"No, most side effects stop once the medication is stopped. If you gentlemen have no further question, I have other patients that I need to see to. Sam will be fine. He just needs to continue the chemotherapy at the set interval and his chances look good."
"Okay. Thank you for your time." John told the doctor, dismissing him. He knew Dean couldn't talk right now. Dean looked at him.
"This is messed up." He told his dad.
"Yes, it is. What do you say we go back to the room?" John got up from his chair and started walking down the hall, not waiting as Dean followed closely behind. They went into the room and Sam was still awake. He smiled at them, and reached out for Dean.
"Take me home." Sam told Dean.
"What are you, that Constance bitch? 'Take me home'" He said, mocking his little brother. "No, seriously, we have to sit tight for a little bit more, and then we can go anywhere you want."
He sat down, ignoring the watery quality of the puppy-dog look Sam was giving him. 'It ain't working.' He sat there petting Sammy's baby fine hair for a long time, his brother back in the fetal position that he had been in and watched as he went to sleep. 'Don't take him from me.'
Hope you liked this chapter. Feel free to leave me a note whether it be constructive criticism or praise.
Two things: 1. There have been stories about the brothers as children, but for some reason people are obsessed with six and eight for Sam's age. My reference here is something that could have happened at a younger age. 2. The whole pajama gown thing: It's a pair ofscrub pants with a gownover it. I request it every time I have to go to the hospital. I'm sure there are some people who would love to see Sam with just the open-backed gown ( ;) lol) but I'm pretty sure John's not one of them.