Dean was shivering cold in the bed laying next to Sam. His eyes hurt from any light and he was so exausted he barely had the strength to roll over towards the trashcan to vomit, which he had done 3 times in the past 10 minutes. He had just undergone his 4th Chemotherapy in as many weeks. This week was by far the worst yet. He couldn't get warm despite being ensconced in a thick down comforter and having Sam's warm body heat next to him. Sam felt helpless as he watched Dean suffer, knowing it was going to get worse over the next couple of days. That's the pattern that had evolved. At least he was able to get Dean home before the side effects started to overtake him.

"Sammy, you don't have to babysit me, go do something, grab a beer, talk a walk, exercise, something besides sit her watching me." Anger flashed in Sam's eyes, only for a second, when the fuck was Dean going to let him take care of him the way he took care of Sam. Things were different now, they were more then brothers they were lovers. Dean doted on Sam the last time he had a cold like it was pneumonia. This was worse...far worse;Dean had cancer. They were finally together, less then a year and Dean became deathly ill. It started as headaches, growing in severity until the last one, the one that brought them to the ER was the one that found the leukemia. Turned out the headaches were unrelated to the cancer, but the blood work they drew found it coincidentally. The ER doctor called it an unfortunate happy coincidence. Sam thought there was nothing happy about it.

Dean took it like a trooper, going to see the oncologist without even so much as a groan. He later told Sam he knew Sam wanted him to go, wanted him to fight for his life, and for him he would. He didn't want to unnecessarily worry Sam, he knew he was stressed enough with his diagnosis. So he followed dr.s orders and pushed Sam away. He kept him emotionally at arm's length. Sam knew Dean thought he was protecting Sam, preparing him to eventually live without him. Dean was scared, scared for Sam. Since they become lovers the intimacy between them had grown to levels that stunned him. He knew he couldn't live without Sam now that they were together. So if he drew back, Sam would get tough, learn to live without Dean, emotionally.

Of course he knew it was hurting Sam, but it was for his own good. Sammy being Sammy addressed the situation almost immediately. "Dean, I know you're trying to protect me, in case something happens to you, but it hurts me more for you to push me away while we are here with each other then the hurt I will feel if you die. You can't control an illness, you can control your behavior, and I'm telling you, I am not going anywhere. Not now, not when you are at your sickest, or when you are recovered. It's not happening."

It resonated with Dean, he got it and things changed. He let Sam in. Slowly. Dean had a problem revealing when he was in pain, or needed help. He didn't want to bother or worry Sam. The first week of chemotherapy Dean's side effects didn't kick in until 2 in the morning, a full 17 hours after his treatment. Him and Sam thought maybe he would be one of the few the Dr. mentioned have limited and/or very mild side effects from the chemotherapy.

At 2 am. Dean suddenly bolted from the bed into the bathroom, not completely making the toilet, mostly because he was intent on being quiet and not waking Sam, and slowly got out of bed, softly closed the door behind him, as well as the bathroom door to drown out any retching noises. He dropped to his knees, clutching the toilet for strength to get through the painful heaves that continued to rack his body. The tears were streaming down his face, first from the vomiting, then from the painful wretches that wouldn't stop after 25 minutes.

Sam woke and heard Dean, getting up immediately and going into the bathroom to check on Dean. He covered the vomit on the floor with a towel and took his place beside his brother, rubbing his back and whispering "I'm right here Dean, I'm not going anywhere."