By: Oldach's Dream
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: Dean's the brother constantly on the brink of death. Heart Attacks, car accidents. The reaper said it best; he's living on borrowed time. It's a little ironic really, because this story is about Sam.
Mad World
Chapter One: No tomorrow, no tomorrow
"You have many options," the young woman spoke cautiously - Sam couldn't blame her. "Mr. Paine, would you like to talk about those options, or… do you want me to call someone?"
"No." Sam snapped immediately, "Don't call anyone. Please. Not yet."
"Alright," she seemed a little taken aback by his outburst, but Sam really didn't care. Couldn't bring himself to care. "Then…do you need a moment?"
"Options?" Sam croaked the word out after a few silent minutes that weren't really all that silent. A hospital was never silent – even if the crappy exam room he happened to be sitting in lacked conversation – the sounds of a hospital were always just…there.
And just outside this room – it wasn't much larger than an impressive closet, actually – Sam could hear the buzz of a typical hospital setting. People talking in hushed tones, crying, screaming, medical tools clinking together, children balling, parent's soothing tones…Fuck, he hated hospitals.
Hospitals to him had always meant death, or serious injury, the life-changing -and entirely real, given what they did for a living - possibility that his brother or father might die. Dean's heart attack had been a nice and neat hospitalized package of Well, we can make your last few weeks on earth comfortable, but there's no real luck. Have a nice day. His coma had been just as grim, more so in reality, because his big brother hadn't even been awake to joke the pain away – to complain about hot nurses and the fabric softener teddy bear.
He'd flat-lined and Sam thought he was going to die. Then he came back and John had died instead. Dean had been angry for weeks, pissed at Sam, at everything they'd been hunting, at people that didn't deserve anger – at life in general. And while Sam had been frightened of his brother's grieving process… he could feel nothing short of relief.
His brother was alive.
And yes, in the process of making that happen, John Winchester had sacrificed himself. And that hurt like a bitch – every damn day – but Dean was alive. His brother was alive, living on borrowed time. Sam could see that in Dean's eyes. Every time they hunted, every time he took a risk, put himself in the direct line of fire – Sam could see Dean's thoughts plastered all over his face.
I'm gonna die anyway, Sammy. Let me fight.
I should have stayed dead. He recalled those words with a shiver.
They had so many issues to work through, so much which had never been said – that needed to be said. Sam had just falsely assumed that they'd have the time to work through it. Together.
"Yes," the woman continued, pulling Sam from his contemplations. "You have many options. There's in-patient treatment that could stop the spread of your tumor, possibly in it's tracks. With proper care and medication, you could live a perfectly normal life."
"Normal, huh?" Sam smirked, because wasn't that a hoot? He could have normal now.
"Yes," she didn't seem to understand the humor in that. "Or, there's a new radiology treatment that could prolong your life, for-"
"What about without?" Sam interrupted, not wanting to hear the what ifs that didn't even apply to him. "Without treatment? If I just walk outta here with nothing? How long?"
"This tumor," she sighed. "It's located in the direct center of your brain, it's somehow managed to infect every part of the brain that we use. And some we don't." She sighed and lowered her clipboard. "Frankly, Mr.-"
"Call me Sam." He commanded, sick of the fake name. He found it too ironic.
"Sam," her tone was gentle, almost motherish with concern. "This form of tumor…it's almost unprecedented. Frankly, none of the doctors here could give you any sort of projected time table for long you'll survive without treatment."
"But you said," Sam swallowed. "Didn't you say it was benign?" The youngest Winchester didn't know much about medical terminology, but he damn well knew what that meant.
"I said it looks benign," she said. "It some of the M.R.I.'s we took. In others, it looks fully active. That's why we have to run more tests. Sam, we've never seen anything like this before."
Sam felt a palpable whoosh of knowledge surround him – had he been standing, it would have knocked him on his ass. Hallie had told him all this, he just…hadn't believed it.
"I told my brother I was going out for breakfast," he said to the pretty doctor, and didn't understand for a second why her eyes got hopeful.
"Do you want me to call him? I mean, having family-"
"No," Sam insisted again. "Don't call him. Just…tell me."
"Tell you what?" She sounded so desperate.
"Am I gonna die?"
A/N: Should I continue?