Side Effects

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Three weeks later-Washington DC.

The sound of Sam being violently sick in the bathroom pulled Dean out of of his peaceful slumber and crashing into reality. His dream about hunting down flying demons with angel wings was quickly forgotten as the sound of his brother heaving up nothing filled his ears. He was surprised that Sam could actually be sick since he hardly ever managed to eat anything these days but Dean had no idea why. The younger Winchester had grown paler over the last couple of weeks, his appetite was practically non-existent and he was always leaving the motel when Dean was sleeping to return over an hour later claiming to have been collecting coffee.

Dean grumbled to himself as he climbed out of the warm bed and onto his bare feet. Maybe this was the root of Sam's constant bitchiness? Maybe he's been feeling ill recently and I've done nothing to help him. A wave of guilt washed over the man as he stood silently next to his bed, unsure of what move to make next.

The smell of coffee was filling the room so Dean's eyes scanned the area until he saw the polystyrene cups that were steaming with the hot liquid. From this, Dean deduced that his brother had only just returned from his usual early morning coffee run before collapsing in front of the toilet to purge his guts out. The elder brother winced in sympathy for his sibling. Erch, poor guy.

The hunter shuffled over to the door and hesitated before knocking against the wood. He heard his brother jump making him feel even more guilty. He grimaced before calling out to the sick man, "Hey, Sammy? Are you okay?"

There was a short period of silence from the man, who had his head hunched over the toilet bowl, as he tried to control his breathing.

"Sammy?" He lent against the door almost as if trying to get closer to the long haired man.

There was another heave before a weak answer, "Yeah, fine."

He rolled his eyes even though Sam couldn't see him. He knew when his brother was lying and the fact that Sam was actually vomiting made the evidence suggest that the young man was bending the truth.

"Why you being sick then?"

There was a brief hesitation as Sam tried to think up a believable lie which made Dean raise a brow, "...Probably something that I ate."

"You barely eat anything, Sam." He couldn't help the sigh that fell from his lips. He really didn't want to get into another argument but he needed the truth.

"Well, obviously, what I did eat wasn't good." There was a sharpness to the tall man's voice that had started to become more and more common. That annoyed Dean a lot.

"Well, if you're fine then I guess I'll just leave you to it!" The elder snapped through the door bitterly before turning on his heel to go and get dressed.

Sam let out a shaky breath as Dean backed away from the door. His trembling hands gripped the toilet seat again as a wave of dizziness made the room around him spin. He lent his hot cheek down against the cold seat of the toilet and tried to make it pass. He really didn't care for hygiene at the moment instead his focus was on not bringing up his internal organs in dry heaves.

He decided, in that very moment, that he truly hated the side effects of Chemotherapy.

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Three weeks later- Washington DC.

The sound of the shower running allowed Dean to finally breathe. A short escape of his little brother was all he needed. Dean felt as though he was walking on eggshells whenever they engaged in even the smallest of conversation. The young hunter had been acting strange recently but Dean couldn't pin down the reason. For one, the tall man had gone out on Tuesday morning and hadn't returned until very late Wednesday night so late that it was almost drifting into morning. He hadn't been too concerned because Sam had told him that he was doing research in the library then hitting a bar. Dean had assumed that maybe the man had met a girl in the bar and gone to her house. It wasn't in Sam's usual behaviour but he couldn't complain as he was always telling the workaholic that he needed to relax and have some fun.

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