Sam dropped to his knees in front of the grimy toilet. It already smelled like 100 kinds of nasty, and it wasn't helping his stomach at all.
Damn.
He coughed twice and the vomit poured from his mouth, splashing loudly into the filthy porcelain bowl. Sam pitched forward, trying to avoid touching the disgusting mess, but it was no use.
He groaned again and let forth another round.
Damn.
Having the flu was twice as bad without Dean around.
Maybe it was time to give it up.
Maybe it was time for Dean to know the truth.
Sam was back.