AN hides behind the couch I'm so sorry, I feel like such a deuce, I never meant for it to take so long, but one thing after the other happened and before I knew it, it had been this long since I updated. Thank you so much for sticking around, if you are still sticking around, and thanks so much for all the reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter!
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Disclaimer: See chapter one
ENJOY
The happiness the two brothers had felt in the hospital quickly disappeared as they pulled into the driveway. The familiar black truck had taken up it's space on the driveway, like a black omen, bringing discouraging thoughts to the brothers. Neither one really felt like dealing with their father's anger.
Dean was the first to walk in, there was no way he was letting Sam walk in and be subjected again with their father's hostility.
He was surprised when he saw a light on in the kitchen, a somewhat pleasant smell making its way down the hallway, "What the hell" he muttered, it smelt like they're father was cooking.
Dean walked slowly down the hall, knowingly keeping his brother behind him, protecting him for what could be in store.
"Hey" Dean called out as he saw his father over the small stove, "What's going on?"
"Well Dean, I'm making dinner, what's it look like?" John responded, not wanting to make eye contact with his son's, his shame and guilt overwhelming. His hands shaking slightly as he heard his son walk over to him.
"Ahh, I'm not sure" Dean said as he walked over and looked into the pots, looking back at Sam with fear in his eyes from the substance in the pot.
"Sam, Dean, we need to have a little talk, and when I read you were at the hospital, I thought you may be hungry when you got home"
"Thanks" Dean replied breaking his gaze from the liquid in the pot, taking a seat at the kitchen table, looking over at Sam, urging him to take a seat as well.
Sam on the other hand just wanted to go to bed, he was weak, he was tired, and he was in no mood for his father's yelling or degrading. But like any little brother would, he listened to Dean, taking his seat, wincing as his bones cracked painfully.
John was nervous, it wasn't often that he let his emotions show in front of the boys, but this was one of those times. He had screwed up and he knew it, and he felt disgusted with the way he had acted.
"Boys, I think I need to do some explaining about my reaction," he said quietly, turning to see his two sons anxious faces waiting.
"I shouldn't have freaked out like I did, Sam, you're my son, and that will never change, no illness is going to take you away from me" he said, making his way over to the table, sitting down in front of his boys.
"I'm sorry" he choked out, "I shouldn't have reacted like I did, and I hope you boys can accept my apology. But I would understand if you were upset and don't want me to stay. The only thing I ask is that I'm kept up to date on how you're BOTH doing"
Sam couldn't believe it, in all the years he had spent on the road with his father, he had never heard the word, "sorry" come out of his mouth, not even when John had screwed up on a hunt.
It was a rare occurrence, so rare that just hearing the words was enough to make Sam cry, but he held it back, he had to be strong in front of his father. His emotions towards his father being there suddenly coming through, as much as Sam hated to admit it, he wanted him there, needed him to be there, to be the father he craved for all his life.
"You can't stop hunting the Demon" were the only words that seemed to be able to roll off his tongue. "I can get over this, it's not worth stopping the hunt."
John sighed at his youngest sons response, "Sam, I know how bad you want the demon dead, hell I do too, and so does Dean. But I'm not going to leave my boys to deal with this alone, you two are all I have left."
"Dad, no… you can't stay then" Sam slumped; he could feel Dean's glare burning through him. Sam's aching soul accepted the burning gaze, he knew how much his brother wanted they're father to stick around, and he was casting him away, he deserved the pain.
John just nodded, "I won't fight with you Sam, I've fought with you all your life, and now is not the time, now your fighting for your life and giving it all that you have, but maybe we can come up with a deal of sorts."
Sam's ears perked, as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted his father to stay.
"I won't stop hunting, but if things are quiet, I want to be here, I don't want to be left in the dark, I want to help you boys."
Sam contemplated what was said, resisting the urge to just blurt out his acceptance of the deal, "Fine, but if anything comes up, you promise"
"Of course" John replied, happy to have his boys even talking to him still, but ecstatic that they would actually forgive him.
"Well, fantastic, now that this is settled, and we are all family again" Dean perked up, wanting the conversation to be over and nobody to change their minds, desperate for his father to stay, "Why don't we order out?"
"But I made something" John said pointing towards the stove.
"Yeah… so, do you want pizza? Sam how's that stomach for some pizza?"
Sam smiled, he was glad to see Dean so happy, the broken family had managed to glue itself back together, now all Sam had to worry about was gluing himself back together.
ONE WEEK LATER
It was once again the beginning of yet another month; the third round of treatments was eagerly waiting for Sam at the hospital down the road. All three Winchester men had settled in during the course of the week, having it so the two boys were now rooming together while their father occupied Dean's room.
"Sam, I don't care, I'm going" Came Dean's weak voice through the bathroom door.
"Dean, you can't and you know it, if you don't feel well, you can't run the risk of getting any of the patients sick."
"I'm not sick" the stubborn Winchester replied as he opened the door, revealing his surprisingly somewhat healthier looking younger brother. 'shit that's not good' Dean thought as he walked out.
"You look worse than me" Sam replied as Dean walked past him, he could feel the heat radiating off of Dean, his brother's physical appearance had weakened over the last 24 hours, he was getting sick and it was hitting him hard.
"Go lay down Dean, I'll be fine"
"Nope, not gonna happen" Dean replied as he picked up his shoes, placing a hand on the wall to steady his fatigued body.
"Well, son, it is gonna happen" John stated, coming up and taking the shoe out of Dean's hand, "I've got Sammy, you can't go about getting other people sick, and you have to actually be able to stand in order to walk out of the house"
Dean wanted to argue but couldn't, his father's stern voice left no room for arguing, unless of course it was Sam he was talking to, then Sam would find something to argue about.
So Dean followed his father's guiding hand towards the couch, grateful to be sitting, never realizing just how crappy he really felt till his ass hit the couch and he started to lay back.
Glancing up at a smiling Sam who had brought a blanket over, placing it over his chilled frame. "Told ya so" he said slyly as he stood back up.
"I'll be fine, don't worry, Dad will be with me and we'll be back before you know it"
"He's right Dean, just rest for now"
Dean didn't reply, his eyes slowly shutting as he watched his little brother walk out. He wanted to get up and chase after him, not liking the idea of leaving Sammy out of his sight, but his body would just not move as he slipped into darkness.
AT THE HOSPITAL
John and Sam sat in the small waiting room, quietly waiting for their names to be called, John's eyes widened as he looked at all of the patients that were scattered around the room. Their faces resembling that of Sam's, withdrawn, pale… hopeless. John cringed as he watched a woman becoming ill in a plastic bag, her back the only indication of her heaving which was quiet.
"Once you get good at it you don't make as much noise, it just kinda comes out" Sam spoke up as he followed his father's gaze across the room, "I haven't mastered that yet, not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing"
John wasn't sure how to respond to his son's comment, his mind was still getting around the fact that his boy was sick, he didn't even think about the vomiting that is usually associated with the treatment, and the fact that his son was so casual with his comment, it was slightly unnerving.
He was glad when he heard Sam's name ring through the room through the P.A system. "Our turn to go" Sam said as he got up slowly, even though his blood counts were back up, and his shingles had healed over, his body was still aged and frail.
John just followed his son out of the room, glad to be moving away from the other patients, watching as his son walked into yet another room that had several nurses and stations set up. John was going to ask what was going on, but it didn't take him long to realize that they were in an IV room, Sam was going to get his IV set up, yet another thing that John hadn't thought about.
'I'm not ready for this, I'm not ready for this' John chanted in his mind as his son took a seat, looking over at him, he tried to smile back as a nurse walked into the small station, closing the curtain around them as Sam removed his shirt, revealing a beige patch on the right side of his chest, four inches below his collar bone.
"So how long as that Emla been on Sam?" The nurse asked as she set up the station, bringing out fresh test tubes and setting up a butterfly needle.
"It's been on for about two hours" Sam responded as he watched the nurse put gloves on and pull back the patch, revealing the port scar.
"Good, you'll be nice and numb" The nurse said as she brought her hands up to his scar.
John had no clue what was going, he didn't know why his son had his shirt off, or why there was a patch on his boy's chest, or even what the hell Emla was, as far as he knew Iv's were supposed to be in a person's arm, not in their chest.
'Dean told you about the port, you know that, that's the port' he said to himself as he watched the nurse poke around the scar that had been hidden under the patch. He winced as he watched the skin pull back around the foreign object in his son's chest, revealing the location of the port.
John had always had an iron stomach, he had seen many things in his life but as he watched the nurse take the butterfly needle and push it into his son's chest he could feel his breakfast start to move. He continued to watch the nurse, feeling his eyes widen as she attached a syringe to the tube that was hanging from the butterfly needle, cringing as she pulled back on the syringe. His son's blood flowing freely into the tube, until the nurse removed it and attached a new needle filled with saline, pulling back once more, happy with the blood coming back, she pushed the saline through.
John's breakfast continued to move in his stomach, hoping that the nurse was almost done as she place a clear bandage over the butterfly needle, his stomach dropped once more as she took out yet another test tube and attached it to Sam's port.
"I'll try not to take too much from you today Sam, doctor just ordered some more blood tests for you" the nurse said, as the blood spilled into the test tube and John's breakfast started to make its way up. Swallowing hard John looked back at his boy who sat quietly, his young eyes looking at him, looking for comfort, but finding none.
'Mary, you said you'd be here, and I hope to hell you are right now' he thought as the bile burned, and the sweat built up on his brow. John could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, comfort coming through him, settling his stomach, the bile falling back to where it belonged, giving him the strength to look at Sam and smile, offer him some sort of comfort.
"Thank you" John whispered quietly as the nurse finally finished up with the test tube, attaching Sam to an IV that had a saline drip started.
"Free to go" the nurse said, helping Sam up.
John just followed his son, his hands at his side as he watched his boy slowly walk forward, pushing the IV in front of himself, making his way away from the IV room, away from the waiting room, John hoped it was away from the hospital, but he knew he was going to yet another room he wasn't ready for.
It felt as if they were walking to their death as the halls started to close in on them, John could feel his breath start to hitch as his son walked ahead of him, the walls coming in with every step they took. John tried to ignore the urge to yell out and push the walls away, grab his boy and run out of the hospital.
Taking a deep breath, he raised his hand and put it on his shaking son's shoulder, knowing he had to be strong, that Sam was missing Dean more then he let on.
FIVE HOURS LATER
John had sat, white knuckled to his chair for five hours, watching his youngest lay on a hospital bed, his unfocused eyes trained on the TV in front of his bed, sighing every so often while his IV constantly dripped.
John had tried to have a conversation with Sam a few times during those five hours, but after the fifth time his voice cracked and he was met with Sam's silence, he thought better of it. Not trusting his usually strong voice as he watched his son weakly lean forward and retch into the Kay basin he had in front of his mouth.
John's every instinct told him he should be helping Sam, rubbing his back or arm anything to comfort his son who was getting sick in the hospital bed. But he could not break his grip from the chair, instead he just watched, and tried to keep his own emotions under control.
A nurse walked up to Sam's bed, taking the Kay basin away and replacing it with a new one, not even flinching at the vomit. She glanced over at John and his frightened eyes, and tried to smile and offer comfort to the shaking father, as Sam's eyelids started to fall.
"Why don't you go and get some lunch, Sam will be asleep for a bit because of the benedryll"
"No, I'm good"
"Mr. Winchester, I insist, at least get up, I haven't seen you leave the chair once"
John sighed heavily, he didn't want to leave his son's side, but it was past the point of pain for his bladder, which had been crying out for the last two hours.
"Fine, but not until he's asleep"
The nurse just nodded and smiled as she patted Sam's arm and turned to leave, causing Sam to stir ever so slightly.
"Its okay son" John said quietly, finally finding his voice, as if on a subconscious level his voice kicked in when it knew that Sam probably wouldn't understand what he said, in hopes that he didn't have to have a conversation with his sick son.
"Its okay, I got you" the oldest Winchester continuously whispered, until Sam's eyes closed and his breathing evened out.
John's hand unknowingly left his chair handle and clasped onto his youngest son's hand, holding on tightly, not wanting to let go, until he felt two hands fall on his shoulders. His natural hunter instincts failing him as he casually looked up to the kind eyes of the nurse.
"Yeah, I'm going" he said, his voice hitching as he wiped the tear he didn't know had fallen from off his cheek, his voice filled with a sadness that would break even the hardest soul.
She said nothing, just smiled as she watched him leave the room, her eyes glancing down once more at the sleeping young man before she turned, closing the curtains around his bed.
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Dean was still laying on the couch, getting up only when he had to, whether it be to go to the washroom, get a drink of water, or get some more Advil for his now pounding headache that went along with his fever and nausea. He tried to keep himself under the covers as much as he could, needing to get better quickly so he wouldn't miss another day with Sam.
A chill had settled over his muscular frame and even though he could feel the constant heat from the fever radiating off of his body, he still had the blankets wrapped firmly around his shivering frame.
He had just settled back into the groove he had created in the couch over the course of the day, when he could feel his eyes start growing heavy once again, sleep creeping up on him as he pulled the blankets up to his chin, his thoughts lingering on his brother as a shadow came across the room, a cold hand resting on his forehead as his eye lids fluttered as he tried to stay awake.
"Wha? Who?" he whispered.
"Don't worry Dean" came a comforting voice as Dean lost his battle and closed his eyes.
MEANWHILE
The curtain pulled back slightly, a familiar old woman walked in slowly resting a frail hand on Sam's shaking shoulder, smiling at Sam's persistence to fight the Benedryll and the sleep that tugged at him.
"Its okay Sam" She whispered as she watched the youngest Winchester lose his battle to the even more persistent sleep.
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Dean could feel the comfort of the couch leave him as he now stood in what looked like an open area. The wind blowing freely across his physique, causing him to shuddered slightly, and yet refreshing his warm face at the same time.
"Almighty God, we rejoice that the souls of those who have died trusting in the Lord Jesus Christ live with you in everlasting joy and happiness."
Dean's eyes snapped open as he heard Father Jim's voice echo through open air, as he felt a tear he didn't know was there fall down his cheek. Glancing around, taking in his surroundings as the breath was knocked out of him, he wasn't standing in an open field, he was standing in a cemetery.
His father, Father Jim, Caleb, Bobby, Joshua and various other hunters and people gathered around a coffin, everyone was there, everyone but Sam. Their faces sad, wet from the tears that seemed to fall from everyone's eyes, everyone but Sam's, where was Sam?
Dean looked around frantically, "Sam?" he said causing Caleb to look over, bringing a hand up and putting it around his shoulder.
"We thank you for the life of Samuel Winchester and for all that you have given us through him. And we thank you that in mercy you have delivered him from the suffering of this sinful life."
"No" Dean was shocked, his legs became weak as he felt Caleb's grip on his shoulder's tighten. "Sammy no…" Dean sobbed, as the tears fell even harder.
"In your great goodness, Lord, complete soon the number of your chosen children and hasten the coming of your kingdom so that, along with all who have departed trusting in Christ, we may be made perfect in body and soul in your eternal glory, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen"
Dean watched in horror as the casket started to lower in the ground.
"NO! Sammy!" Dean cried out lunging forward, tight arms holding him back as he fell to the ground.
"No, please, not my Sammy, not my Sammy, take me, not Sam, please." He begged as he sobbed uselessly on the ground, the arms still holding him tight.
"He's gone Dean, he's gone, but he's no longer in pain" he heard his father's voice, but he didn't want to believe it, he didn't want to live without his brother.
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Sam could feel his body slip into yet another dream, but found this one to be different, not the usual nightmare that accompanies his hospital dreams. Instead he was outdoors, standing in the warm light of the sun, his body felt no pain, and the hair he once had flowed freely around his face.
Smiling as he opened his eyes, grateful for a peaceful dream, his hopes quickly disintegrated as he took in his surroundings. He was standing in front of a coffin, his family and friends stood with him, all looking at the coffin as Father Jim continued to speak while everyone cried.
"Dean?" Sam called out as he watched his brother's eyes open and the tears fall down his cheeks.
"Sam?"
"Yeah, Dean what the Hell?" Sam said, quickly noticing that his brother wasn't looking at him.
"Dean? What the hell is going on?" He asked, desperation in his voice as he watched Caleb drape an arm across his brother's shoulders.
"We thank you for the life of Samuel Winchester and for all that you have given us through him. And we thank you that in mercy you have delivered him from the suffering of this sinful life."
Sam's head snapped around at Father Jim's words, "What?"
He looked at the coffin, glancing up at the smiling picture of himself, the image mocking him as he fell to his knees, this dream was no different, it wasn't peaceful, and he was still dead.
"NO, Sammy…" Sam whipped his head around at his brother's cry.
"Dean I'm so sorry" he whispered as he curled up in the fetal position, wanting nothing more than to just wake up.
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Sam and Dean may have been in separate places, but their eyes snapped open at the same time, their breath's lost in the horror of the dream, as they were both met with the kind eyes of an older woman, both receiving the same message.
"You've lived this life before, you can change it, you can beat it, It'll be hard, but you can do it, it's not as hopeless as you think, but you have to fight, or that dream will be your future."
With a blink the woman was gone, leaving both boys with questions and a new determination to not let the dream come true.
AN: Again so sorry, I hope that never happens again, but you know how it is, sometimes things just don't go how you would like them to, again so sorry!
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