Writer's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews! I love you guys. ~ Alex

Edit: This chapter has been edited as of 6/13/2019! Happy readings!

Sam awoke on his stomach, his breathing labored. A hand rubbed his back at the same time he broke into a wracking cough, the first plowing through the relative silence and suddenly noise was everywhere - a chair screeched roughly along the floor and Sam heard the sheets rustling as the bed depressed next to him.

"Okay, okay-"

"Dean-" Sam gasped as he propped himself up by his elbows. He was too weak to lift any higher. A wave of heat engulfed his body as it strained and shook under his coughs.

"It's okay, Sam, just hold on a second-"

Sam felt Dean grasp him around the chest and shove him further over to the opposite side of the bed. Sam grunted and coughed harder but Dean didn't let go.

"All right.. and.. up!" Another sudden rush of movement jarred Sam as Dean bodily lifted him up and rolled him over, this time against Dean's chest as he sat against the headboard. Sam was coughing so hard now that he almost slipped out of Dean's hold so he could double over.

"Good-good-good - lean forward just like that," Dean coached. A small chromel bowl appeared in front of Sam as he hacked up blood. Sam grabbed the bowl with both hands and Dean wrapped an arm against Sam's chest to brace him.

"I feel - I can't... breathe..." Sam gasped, coughing and spitting blood into the bowl after every word. He felt Dean's other arm release and his palm started jamming against Sam's back at every coughed exhale.

"Dean- Don't..." Sam pleaded.

"If you can cough, you can breathe, Sammy, c'mon," Dean replied evenly, unwilling to stop the bruising strikes to Sam's back. Sam felt tears welling up as he gagged and watched the blood expel in splatters against the bowl.

"Shit," Sam croaked, unsure if his heart was beating so fast from the coughing or the instinctive fear of seeing so much blood.

The attack began to taper off and Sam was left leaning forward, heaving over the puddle of pure red blood inside the bowl. Dean let Sam be for few seconds, turning the hits to his back into gentle rubs.

"Okay, you done?" Dean whispered, already reaching to take the bowl from Sam's trembling hands. Sam nodded shakily, spitting into it one last time before allowing Dean to set the thing on the nightstand.

He felt Dean behind him strain to reach something. He heard water dripping & a moment later a lukewarm washcloth pressed up against his mouth.

"Mm, I go' it" Sam murmured, weakly reaching up and grabbing the cloth from Dean's hand. "Okay," Dean said softly, letting go once Sam had a decent hold. Sam tremulously washed his mouth and chin free of blood. The cloth felt good and Sam flipped it over to wipe the rest of his face. Sweat and tear tracks disappeared under the soft terry cloth.

"Sam?" Dean's voice sounded alarmed.

"Yeah?"

Dean got up from the bed and turned around to stare at his brother with wide eyes. He was holding the bowl.

"I think this much blood means you're bleeding internally. We gotta get you to the hospi-"

"No. No-"

"Sam, if-"

"It's not internal bleeding."

Dean looked frustrated, then his eyes widened with understanding and he pressed his lips together with barely contained anger.

"It's the trials. I've been coughing up blood. Not as much as that, but…" Sam trailed off, having used just about all the energy he had for this conversation. He closed his eyes and willed the ground to still.

"Okay well," Dean set the bowl back down again on the table and moved forward. "You've still lost too much blood."

Sam gave a wobbly nod. Couldn't argue with that.

"You need to stay awake for me," he said sharply, coming around and stuffing two pillows up against the headboard behind Sam.

"Wha- Dean-!" Sam voice scratched out in surprise as Dean grabbed him under the arms and boosted him up against the pillows. Just as Sam's head was about to hit the wall, Dean's hand shot out and bent his neck down.

"Uh..." Sam groaned, light-headed. Blankets fell over him and pushed up against his chest.

"Sam, listen to me closely," Dean's eyes were directly in front of him now, and Sam's expression couldn't have communicated a dazed what the fuck, Dean any better. Dean's mouth pulled into a straight line.

"Sam!" He yelled harshly, and Sam jerked in response, his pinched face the picture of annoyance when Dean snapped within an inch of his eyes.

"What?!" Sam retorted, pissed.

"You've lost too much blood. You pass out on me, I don't care if it's the trials or not, I'm calling an ambulance. You understand?"

"Mm," Sam agreed. "Feel like shit. What're you gonna do?" Sam slurred.

"You need to eat. I'll be right back. Do not go to sleep. Hey. Hey!" Dean clapped his hands near Sam's ear and Sam jerked back up.

"Yeah, Dean, Jesus Christ..."

And then Dean was gone.

It took a few seconds for Sam to register that Dean had left. Maybe minutes. Time was fuzzy. His vision was starting to come in jerky flashes as his eyes wandered the room. It felt like super-speed, his senses heightened, his mind registering every little trinket and oddity inside, zeroing in and studying its texture and shape with so much intensity. His breath started to pick up as he saw the knives on the shelf, Dean's vinyls against the wall.

All he wanted to do was close his eyes but for this unerring sense his brother would be pissed if he did.

"Mmm," he hummed, using his own voice to anchor him. "I'm 'n D'n's room," he mumbled aloud. He closed his eyes then fought to open them again. He had to keep them open. He had to keep them open for... something. Dean.

Sam's eyes rolled as a fresh wave of nausea blew through him and he accidentally caught sight of the ceiling again.

"Fuck," he gasped, averting the expanse of empty wall. He stared at the bedside table instead. The picture of their mother was leaning against the lamp. Sweat trickled down Sam's face as he stared at her. She beamed under the sunlight. His breath steadied. Her cornflower blue eyes were kind and calm, matching her delicate smile perfectly.

"Hey, Mom," Sam whispered.

Her expression was so simple and happy. Sam squinted and focused on that.

"You never coulda known," Sam whispered, wistful. He blinked back tears and sniffed. "Dean's okay!" he offered, strained and pitched over having salvaged something good to tell her.

Sam studied his mother's unchanging expression, searching for something. He blinked, eyelids becoming too heavy to hold up.

"You're beautiful," Sam observed quietly. "I... wish..." Sam trailed off and let his eyelids sink.

Suddenly he heard a whispered, "me too, Sammy," nearby. Sam startled and opened his eyes to see Dean sitting down at his bedside.

"De-"

Dean's palm cupped his cheek, the back of his neck, and angled his face up. Green eyes stared into his and Sam was utterly confused when they crinkled into a kind smile.

"I wasn't kidding about the airplane spoon, y'know," he said, his smile turning into a grin.

Sam made a face. "What?"

Dean smirked and presented him with a protein shake.

"Don' need a spoon for shakes," Sam pointed out matter-of-factly. Dean laughed.

"Okay. Here, can you hold it?" He asked, guiding Sam's hands over the glass. Sam shifted around and held his hands up. Dean still helped.

"S'cold," Sam murmured.

"You always liked it better that way."

"I do," Sam confirmed quietly, grasping the glass tightly. His hands were still shaking but he was holding the glass well enough. For the finishing touch Dean pulled the wrapper off a straw and dropped it in.

"Take it easy but as much as you can," Dean instructed calmly, shooting the straw wrapper into the garbage. He turned back to look at Sam, who nodded to Dean as he inhaled the shake.

"G'job," Dean murmured, watching.

Sam kept his eyes on Dean.

Dean winked.

When the shake was halfway done, Sam lifted his lips from the straw, breathing heavily from the gulps he'd been taking.

"You... have Mom's eyes."

Dean lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

"Thanks, bud."

...

Sam was sleeping. Not well, but...

Dean washed a hand down his face as he stepped out of his room and into the corridor. He took a left towards the library but that wasn't his destination. He stopped at the threshold of Sam's room. It was closer to the library and thus would've been an easier move from the library's floor earlier. It'd been a freak split-second judgment though: Dean had wanted Sam in his room so that's where he put him.

Now he opened the door to his brother's room to check for anything he might want. The door fell open silently and Dean's heart sank as he surveyed the atmosphere. It looked more like a barrack than a room. There was one double bed, well-made, in the center of the floor. Sam's duffel rested on his desk. Dirty clothes in the laundry basket.

Nothing more.

Dean swept the room again, searching for anything besides Sam's clothes to identify that his little brother occupied the space.

Finding nothing and at a loss, Dean stepped inside. He felt the mattress. At least it was firm. The pillows were awful, lumps of packed-down cotton ball. The sheets were cheap.

Nothing hung on the walls. No scattered books on the floor.

"What the hell..." Dean whispered.

Sam had possessions... Didn't he?

Writer's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Please review/comment if you can spare the time! ~ Alex