Chapter Nine

At first, Dean thought it had all been some wonderful mistake and that Sam was going to be okay after all. After the pneumonia had cleared, Sam seemed to improve fast without the chemo. He wasn't sick all the time anymore and he had energy to do things like walk to the diner from the motel. For a few weeks, Dean really thought things were going to be okay. Sure he was in pain, and he relied on the meds more than ever, but he was dealing. Then the headaches started, and the meds didn't seem enough anymore. Sam spent more and more days lying in the dark, curled over his pillow and hiding from the world. Even on the days he wasn't in pain, he didn't have the energy to walk far anymore.

Dean was starting to understand that they really were nearing the end.

That thought terrified him, and he was frequently overwhelmed with panic, but in contrast, Sam seemed almost Zen about his fate. Dean didn't believe he wanted to die, but he had made peace with what was coming and was dealing with it. It should have helped him, to know his brother wasn't scared, but he was terrified of what was going to happen to him when Sam was gone. For the first time in his life, he would be truly alone. His parents were gone, there was no Bobby or Cas, no Ellen or Jo, even Lisa and Ben were beyond his reach now. He had lost almost everyone he had ever loved, and the last person left was slipping away, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to save him.

He had promised.

Dean had known something big was coming, but he had consoled himself that nothing could be worse than what he'd already heard and seen, so he was completely unprepared for Amelia's offer.

"You want us to what?" he asked loudly.

Amelia cast a glance over to Sam's restlessly sleeping form and she gestured to the door. Dean followed her out of the motel room and onto the asphalt parking lot. She leaned against the wall and spoke softly. "I want you to come to stay with me."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because Sam is running out of time now, and unless you want him to…" She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath. "Unless you want it to happen in a motel on the road, you need to move him while you can. Soon, he'll be too sick to make the journey."

Dean shook his head. "We're not there yet."

She looked at him sympathetically. "We are, Dean."

Dean swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. "How long?" He hated that he was asking the question, especially of her, but he needed to know.

"I'm not sure. Sam seemed to think it would be soon–"

"You mean he's been talking to you about this?" Dean bit out.

She nodded serenely. "He seems to think it will be soon, and I am inclined to agree. He's seeing Doctor Jacobsen today, isn't he? I think he will be able to give us a better gauge of how things are happening. However long it is, Sam needs to be moved soon. You have seen how he is already drifting."

That was true. In the past week, Sam had remained in or on the bed and Dean hadn't been able to tempt him out of the motel room at all. He seemed most comfortable when he was lying in the dimly lit room, riding the waves of pain out with the medication.

Dean hated this more that he thought it was possible for him to hate anything. Azazel, Ruby, Lilith, Lucifer, Dick Roman, he'd have them all back at once if it meant he didn't have to see his brother going through this, if he didn't have to go through it, too.

He nodded. "Okay. I'll talk to Sam when he's awake, and if it's what he wants, we'll come stay with you."

She smiled. "Thank you, Dean."

"Just out of curiosity, but what's your husband got to say about this?"

Amelia cast her eyes down. "Don understands. He's taken a long haul job. He won't be back for a month."

"A month," Dean said in a cracked voice.

Amelia laid a hand on his arm and his muscles tensed at the contact. "Yes, Dean, a month."

Within a month Sam would be gone.

Sam was still resting when Dean went back into their room thirty minutes later. He'd gone for a walk around the block a few times to get a handle on his emotions before facing his brother, even asleep. He didn't want to make it any harder for Sam than it already was, and going back in there looking like his heart was breaking was going to do that. He had to be strong. There would be a time to lose his shit, but it wasn't yet. Not while Sam was still there.

Amelia was gone, back to work, Dean guessed, so he stayed quiet as he rooted through Sam's clothes, searching for something comfortable for him to wear for his hospital visit. It reminded him of all the times he'd done it when Sam was a child, setting out his clothes for the day when he had been a child himself. As if it wasn't bad enough that Sam's sickness was stealing his life, it was stealing his independence too. He needed help with the simplest things.

He was just searching for the mate of the boot he held in his hands when Sam woke. He moved slowly, like an old man, to sit on the edge of the bed.

"Morning, Sammy," Dean said.

Sam smiled. "Morning." He glanced at the starburst clock on the wall. "Huh, it's late."

"Yeah, but we're good still," Dean said. "You've got an hour before your appointment."

Sam eased himself to his feet. He was shaky but he made it across the room.

"I sorted you some clothes," Dean said, holding them out.

Sam smiled his thanks and took the bundle into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him but he didn't lock it, for which Dean was grateful. A locked door wasn't going to keep him out if Sam needed him, but it would be better if he didn't have to break it down.

He heard the shower start up and he smiled. It was a better day than most if Sam was showering. Some days he had to make do with a facecloth while sitting on the edge of the tub because he didn't have the strength to stand long enough.

He listened carefully for any sound that might portend Sam getting into trouble, but all was okay, and when Sam came out of the bathroom, barefoot but dressed, he looked okay. His cheeks were flushed and his damp hair was pushed back from his face. He staggered over to the bed and sat down, bending to pull his boot over to him.

"So," Dean said, "Amelia came by this morning and we were talking."

Sam looked abashed. "Yeah."

"Yeah. She wants us to go stay with her, but you already knew that."

Sam braced his hands on his knees and looked Dean in the eye. "It was an idea. We don't have to do it if you're going to be uncomfortable, but…"

"But you want it." Dean said.

"I don't want you seeing me... I don't want it to be a reminder, every time you check into a motel."

Dean's voice came out harsher than he intended. "If you think I'm not going to see that every time I close my eyes anyway…"

Sam jerked as if struck. "You're right. I'm sorry. I just want this to be as easy as possible."

"Nothing about this is easy, Sam!"

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said plaintively. "I really am."

Dean's anger evaporated like mist. As if this wasn't already hard enough for Sam, he was making it much worse. "No, I'm sorry. I just… You want to be at Amelia's?"

Sam nodded. "It'll be good to be in someone's home, even if it's not ours."

Dean cleared his throat. "Amelia says her husband will be out of town for a month."

That wasn't what he really wanted to say. He couldn't ask Sam the real question though. That was too much to ask of his self control. He didn't want to break in front of his brother. It wasn't time.

Sam heard the question in his voice anyway, and he looked sad. "Yeah, Dean, a month."

Dean closed his eyes and nodded. He took a moment to marshal himself and then he clapped his hands on his knees. "Okay. We better get going if we're going to make it to the hospital in time."

He spotted Sam's missing boot under the bed and he retrieved it and handed it to over. Sam took it and looked up into Dean's eyes. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean knew he wasn't talking about the boot. He was thanking him for everything, and Dean felt like a dick. If anyone in this situation deserved thanks, it was Sam. He had fought on and suffered for Dean's benefit. That was more than anyone else would have done.

Sam pulled on his boots and laced them and then stood. "Ready?"

Dean nodded dolefully. He was as ready as he'd ever be.

Sam had spent a lot of time in Doctor Jacobsen's office, and he was yet to hear good news in it. He had no expectations this would be different, and he was not surprised.

They had gone over his advanced directive and care plan and now they were talking end-of-life care.

"I don't want strangers," Sam said.

He didn't want people he didn't know touching him when he wasn't able to argue. He had been through too much pain in his life to want more, and he knew this was going to be painful, the least he could have was people he loved there with him.

"That's understandable," the doctor said. "Dean, do you agree?"

Dean started visibly. He had been slinking lower and lower into his chair with every word Sam and Doctor Jacobsen said, as if that could protect him from what they were saying. Now he straightened up and looked at Sam. "No strangers, right? That's cool. Just tell me what I have to do."

"It won't be easy," Doctor Jacobsen said. "Sam will need someone to take care of his personal needs. I know Amelia has said she will take care of your medication, but that still leaves work for you, Dean."

"Whatever he needs," Dean said. "I don't need strangers doing what I can."

Doctor Jacobsen smiled. "Okay. I will make arrangements for equipment and sundries to be delivered. Amelia has made an appointment to come in and talk about the medications, so…"

"So this is it," Sam said.

Doctor Jacobsen nodded. "Unless you feel you need to see me again, this is it."

Sam shook his head. "No. If Amelia is set with the meds we're sorted." He smiled. "Thanks for everything."

Sam knew that without the Doctor's help and insistence that Sam try everything he would never have made it so far. He probably wouldn't have been around to see Dean when he got out of Purgatory. He would have been in the ground before Dean was back.

Doctor Jacobsen smiled and rose to his feet. "It's been a pleasure knowing you, Sam."

Sam got to shaky feet and shook the doctor's proffered hand. "You, too."

There was something sad about this last appointment, and not for the obvious reason. While it was sad that Sam was now beyond help and there was nothing the doctor could do for him anymore, it was worse that this was a goodbye. Sam was going to be saying goodbye to other people soon, people he loved.

Dean took his arm and together they made their way out of the office and back through the ward. Sam saw many familiar faces as he made his way along the hall slowly, and he smiled at them but didn't stop to talk. He didn't want to say more goodbyes in front of Dean. He looked like he was barely hanging on as it was.

That was the worst thing about what was happening, leaving Dean. Sam sometimes wondered if it wouldn't have been better to have died before Dean got out. It wouldn't have been better for him, he was grateful for every minute longer he had with his brother, but perhaps Dean would have fared better if he didn't have to see Sam failing slowly.

When they got out to the car, Dean opened the door for him and waited as he folded his tall form into the seat.

"You okay?" he asked.

Sam nodded and yawned. He was wiped and wanted to sleep, but he had to hang on a little longer. He needed to be awake enough to at least get back into his bed at the motel.

"Sleep, Sam," Dean said gently. "I'll wake you when we get back."

Satisfied, Sam closed his eyes and drifted, trying not to react when he heard a shaky breath and sob from beside him.

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Clowns or Midgets xxx