A/N: Sorry if this is shitty. I haven't written in awhile and I'm trying to get back into it. Please, review and tell me how it is.
"I'm sorry, Dean. There is nothing more we can do for your brother. The cancer is just too advanced for any treatment…"
"No… No, there has to be something."
"There are no other options-"
"There has to be! You can't just let him die!" Dean yelled, more in panic than in anger. The doctor, Jim, sighed at the exhausted man in front of him. They'd been at this for months. Constant tests, procedures, experimental treatments. Nothing had worked. Now, there was no chance at all. The cold, hard truth was that Sam was going to die and all Dean could do was stand by and watch him go. Even though Jim was a good friend of his fathers, Dean felt the sudden urge to knock him to the floor for giving up on his little brother.
"Dean, I really am sorry. You've got to know that I've tried everything I can think of. There's just nothing we can do."
Dean turned away from him, trying to fight the tears that were threatening to spill over. He was hanging from his last thread. What, with running on nothing but caffeine and pure adrenaline for the past month. He was trying to keep Bobby and Ellen from coming to the hospital, which proved harder than thought possible. The last thing he needed was more people asking him if he was okay or if there was anything they could do. He kept telling himself he could handle things on his own. Now, he wasn't so sure.
Jim frowned, placing a comforting hand on Dean's shoulder but it was shrugged off. Dean swiped his hand across his face, attempting to wipe away any trace of crying. However, when he turned around, Jim saw his eyes red and puffy. Water was gathering on the inside of his lids. "How long?"
Dean's voice cracked on the last word, making his question sound more like a plea. Jim lowered his head to look at his hands. "Look, Dean-"
"Please, Jim. Just tell me how long." Dean's hand was back over his eyes, trying to squeeze the tears back in.
Sighing, he nodded sadly. "An hour, at most. His body is beginning to shut down…"
In one sentence, Dean's world crashed down around him. Everything seemed meaningless, hazy, dark. His knees gave out and he crashed to the floor, his back resting against the wall. His hand flew to his chest as his heart sped to the point of pain, his throat tightening until he couldn't breathe. Sam, Samuel, his Sammy would be dead. No more hunts, no more road trips, no bantering or pulling pranks. No Sam.
Suddenly, after what seemed like hours but was a mere two minutes, Dean's breath came in gasps. Tears no flowed freely from his eyes as he fought the urge to sob.
"Bobby, I think you should get down here…" Jim's voice seemed miles away. He didn't know how long he sat there, barely able to keep it together. He didn't notice Bobby crouch down or feel him wrap his arms around him to try getting him to calm down. He felt nothing. He was numb. All he wanted was to see Sam.
Carefully getting to his feet, as he didn't trust himself to keep his balance, Dean made his way down the hallway, ignoring the calls from Jim or Bobby. Turning into his room, he stopped when he saw Sam. A lot had changed in a week. The progress must have been too slow for Dean to notice, but he noticed everything now. His head was completely shaved. His skin looked almost gray and stretched out. He had lost a lot of weight over the past few months. His skin was visibly hanging of off his bones. His closed eyes were sunken in, black circles surrounding them from the loss of sleep. He looked more like someone from the Holocaust than his little brother and, for a moment, Dean thought he was already gone. Until slowly, Sam's eyes opened to reveal those green orbs that had once held so much passion, but now held barely a spark. A small, weak smile spread across his face when they focused on Dean.
"Hey, Dean.." Sam's voice was raspy, weak from his tired body. Dean put on the best smile he could under the circumstances, trying to act calm for his sake.
"Hey, Sammy." Walking over to the bed he stood next to it, trying to keep some composure. "How are you feeling?"
"Like you look." They both gave a small laugh, but seconds later Sam's face contorted in pain. Dean almost rushed to him, but the other man held up his hand to stop him. "It's okay. Head's a little sore, is all."
Dean's frown was evident on his face, but he continued to act normal.
"So, once you get outta here, there's a job we've got to do in New Jersey. Shapeshifter…"
"Dean…" Dean just continued.
"…Bobby says he's got an idea of who it might be…"
"And we have a place to stay. Ellen has some friends there-"
"Dean!" Dean stopped rambling, looking at Sam who winced at the effort of trying to yell. Sam stared back at him, his eyes watering. "I'm dying."
Dean's smile faltered.
"Nah, you'll be fine. You're gonna get out of here. As soon as you do, we're hitting a diner and getting the greasiest food there because I am starving."He wasn't really hungry at all. He hadn't eaten in a couple of weeks but that wasn't important. Only Sam was. Sam looked so worn out.
"No, I'm not. You keep saying that but I know you're lying. It's in your eyes, Dean." The look in Sam's eyes told Dean that he had lost. His charade of being happy and hopeful was gone. Finally, the sadness in his eyes flooded to the rest of his tired body. His shoulders, which were usually high and proud, slumped over with the weight of it all. Seeing that Dean was about to fall over, Sam weakly shoved over until there was room on the small bed for the both of them. Dean gladly crawled in next to him. There was a moment of silence before he heard Sam's trembling voice. "D-dean…"
He looked down at his little brother, who was gently tugging on the sleeve of his jacket. "Yeah?"
"…I'm scared, Dean…" Tears ran down his face as he admitted this. The older man's resolve broke as he watched him cry. He quickly wrapped his arms around Sam, rocking him back and forward, trying to provide some comfort but both knowing it was pointless. Sam's body shook violently as he cried. Dean, too, finally let his tears fall. He was at a loss of what to do.
"Carry on, my Wayward son.." The lyrics were out of Dean's mouth before he could stop them. It was the same song he would sing to Sam when he got a nightmare. One he hadn't sung to him since he was ten years old. Sam lifted his head to look into Dean's eyes before giving him a sad smile.
"…There'll be peace when you are done…"
Sam drew a shallow, shaky breath before laying his head on Dean's chest to listen to his heartbeat. It was oddly comforting, knowing that at least Dean would go on. Sam grabbed his hand and gripped it hard.
"…lay your weary head to rest…"
Dean brought free hand to Sam's head. Tears still streamed down his face. Sam's breath became slower and slower. Dean could feel the hold on his hand growing weak.
"…don't you cry no more…" Dean's voice broke as he sang. Sam gasped out something that sounded like "love you."
"I love you, too Sammy." Before he could say anything more, his heart skipped a beat as a soft breath past through Sam's slightly parted lips. His heart sped up as if it were on fire, the beating in his ears nearly driving him into Hell all over again.
"Sam?" The only reply he received was the heart monitor. Its normal erratic pattern changed to a smooth, icy, and seemingly endless noise. Dean was alone.
But not for long.
"I'm coming, Sam." Gripping his still warm hand, Dean kissed the top of his brother's head. "I promise."
A/N: Please, please, please review!