He was feeling fine.
All of a sudden, he bolts into the bathroom and vomits every last thing in him down the cold porcelain toilet bowl.
Twenty minutes later, with bangs sticking to his forehead, and a cold chill settling in his body, he's curled under the covers of the cheap motel bed.
He hears someone enter, but doesn't look up.
He doesn't need to.
He knows who it is.
Dean walks over and sits next to Sam, knowing something is wrong.
Brother's intuition.
Sam knows this, because he has it too.
And suddenly he doesn't feel so sick anymore.
