"How did you get sick?"
"I don't know!" echoed Sam's voice from the run-down motel toilet.
"You eat like a rabbit. All that healthy shit. Isn't that supposed to keep you from getting sick?"
"Can't you call Castiel and have him heal me?" The continued promenade of Sam’s stomach followed.
"No can do brother. I already tried calling him, and I got a busy signal. Besides you're not gonna die from the stomach flu. I told you that salad didn't look safe." Sam groaned in response.
Dean riffled through the fridge for anything Sam could eat without regurgitating later on. The search ended with three slices of left over pizza, a beer, and a protein bar.
He questioned where the protein bar had come from. "Sammy, I'm going to go find you food that you can keep down."
The flush of the toilet announced the younger brother's entrance back into the room. Sam slowly walked to the twin bed he’d claimed last night and fell onto it.
The old mattresses springs protested as it caught Sam's weight. "Thanks, Dean."
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