So this was supposed to be a Halloween story but I didn't finish it until now. Mostly just an excuse for Dean whump with an idea that randomly sprung into my head.
I don't know when I'll get the next story up as of now. I'm working on another multi-chapt fic, but if I get a one shot done in that time, I'll post it. Just don't expect anything Monday. If you want writing updates, you can follow me on Tumblr.
Hunger Pains
A Supernatural Fanfic
"Ugh," Dean grunted as he wiped monster blood off of the side of his face. He really hated it when the monsters exploded into flesh puddles, and this thing seemed to be composed almost entirely of gooey and viscous green slime underneath its shell.
He bent to spit onto the ground, a bad taste in his mouth. He'd been right under the thing when Sam had sliced and diced it and, disgustingly, it seemed like some of the monster had gotten into his mouth. He hoped he hadn't swallowed any of it in his dazed state. He'd blacked out for a second when the thing hit him and had only regained consciousness when it was dribbling goo on his face and Sam finally caught up with him, swinging his machete and taking off the thing's head. This was definitely not one of his favorite hunts, in fact, he was getting really pissed off about all the hunts they were taking for the British Men of Letters. They all seemed to be the grunt jobs none of their agents wanted. Yeah, because Dean could totally see Ketch getting this crap on his fancy suits.
But at least they'd caught the thing that had been killing people in town. Honestly, they still weren't sure exactly what the thing had been or how exactly it had been killing people—eating them seemed to be the going conclusion. Even the Brits didn't know for sure, except that it was something old, and slithery, and kind of bug-like. Dean hadn't gotten a really good look at it before it had jumped him, and frankly after that, when it was in pieces, he didn't care. He was more worried about getting all the gross crap off of him.
"Yikes," Sam cringed as he cleaned his machete blade on a patch of grass nearby and glanced over at Dean. "Um, you've uh…" He motioned to his face and Dean rolled his eyes.
"Shut up. Let's just burn the body and head back to the motel. I need a shower."
Sam nodded in agreement. They dug a swift hole and threw the creature's remains in, before they lit it up. The smell was enough to nearly make Dean throw up and he was glad when they got to bury the corpse and be done with it. He grunted as they made their way back to the Impala, throwing a towel down on the seat before he got in the car. He didn't want to know what this goo would do to leather and he did not want to subject his Baby to that.
Thankfully the motel wasn't far and Dean made a bee-line for the shower, gingerly pulling off his slimy clothes and kicking them into the corner of the small bathroom. He should have burned those along with that thing. He didn't think the goo was going to come out easily.
The shower however, felt great, the hot water at least working to take the goo off his skin and ease his abused muscles. He wished he could stay in there all night but he was also exhausted and just wanted to sleep.
Not before a hot meal, though. After he reluctantly got out of the shower and changed into goo free clothes, he and Sam went down the street to a diner and he ordered a hearty bowl of chili with extra cheese and onion.
Sam wrinkled his nose as he ate his salad. "Dude, are you sure diner chili is a good idea? And all those onions…I do have to share a motel room and a long drive with you tomorrow."
Dean smirked, taking an extra big bite just to annoy Sam, and felt melted cheese slap him in the chin. "Mmm, nope, this is a great idea. Come on, man, if you ate it too, you wouldn't even notice." He raised his eyebrows and waggled a full spoon in Sam's direction, but his brother cringed and ignored him.
"Yeah, okay, just don't come complaining to me if you have to spend all night in the bathroom."
"Come on, Sammy, I have a stomach of iron. Besides, everyone knows you're more likely to get salmonella or e coli from lettuce."
Sam gave him the bitchface and Dean went back to eating his chili.
When they had finished, they went back to the motel and Dean instantly crashed into bed after taking his shoes and jacket off. "Ugh, I hope it's a few days before those prissy bastards find another hunt to send us on. I could use some time off."
Sam snorted. "Come on, Dean, I thought you liked to stay busy."
Dean rolled over to change his position and clutched his pillow under his cheek. "Yeah, well, maybe I'm getting too old for these back to back hunts."
Sam gave him a fond smirk and settled down into the other bed. "Whatever, Dean. Goodnight."
"'Night," Dean mumbled into his pillow as Sam reached over and clicked the lamp off.
Dean was asleep within seconds.
Dean woke up the next morning with an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He frowned, groaning slightly as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. A slightly nauseous feeling overcame him and he pressed a hand to his stomach, breathing through his nose. Crap; maybe Sammy'd had a point about the diner chili.
But he didn't feel like he was actually going to throw up either, just that his stomach was kind of upset. He got up and ruffled through his duffle bag, finding a bottle of antacids and popped a couple into his mouth. That should fix the problem.
He could hear the shower running and figured Sam would be ready soon so he started loading their stuff into the Impala so they could hit the road. They really needed to help Cas with his search for Kelly Kline since it was getting closer and closer to the date that the nephillim could be born.
He went to grab coffee and breakfast sandwiches even though he personally wasn't that hungry, and made it back to the motel just as Sam was packing his bag.
"Got coffee for the road," Dean told him.
"Sounds good," Sam said gratefully.
Dean handed him the coffee and food as they went out to the Impala and started back to Lebanon. It was going to be a few hours drive back to the bunker and Dean drank his coffee eagerly, trying to chase off the tiredness that was hanging on from the last week of too little sleep even by his standards.
But as they drove, his stomach began to roll and before long, he felt nauseous again. On top of that, his stomach started to feel crampy as well as nauseous and he had a really bad feeling that this wasn't going to be fun.
Sam frowned at him after a while, as he noticed Dean subconsciously cradling his belly.
"Hey, you good?" he asked.
Dean slid his hand back to his knee and cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm fine, stomach's just a little messed up this morning." Even as he spoke he swallowed against a wave of nausea that washed over him. He tried to fight past it, breathing through his nose, but it was overwhelming and he suddenly jerked the wheel, pulling off to the side of the road and slamming the Impala into park as he threw his door open.
"Dean!" Sam cried in alarm.
Dean barely heard him because he was kneeling on the side of the road, retching. He was vaguely aware of Sam's door creaking open and a figure joining him, one hand on his back while Dean braced himself and heaved his guts up.
"Dude, I told you that diner chili was a bad idea," Sam said, mostly sympathetic as he clutched the back of Dean's coat to make sure he didn't fall into his own vomit. He groaned.
"Yeah, okay, you were right, shut up," Dean grunted, spitting as he felt like he was finally done. He stood shakily, his brow damp with a cold sweat as Sam gripped his elbow. "This is definitely food poisoning."
"I think I should drive," Sam said with little room for argument and Dean didn't really have the strength right now to argue. It was two hours to the bunker still, and his stomach didn't quite feel settled.
Sam maneuvered him into the passenger seat and reached into the back for a bottle of water, which he pressed into Dean's hand. Dean took a couple small sips, afraid of putting too much in his stomach. If this was food poisoning he would most definitely be throwing up again.
Sam put the Impala back in drive and drove over the speed limit to Dean's relief. He just wanted to go home and crash in his room with some Netflix and a bucket.
He didn't throw up for the rest of the drive, amazingly, but he did doze off, and didn't wake until Sam shook his shoulder gently. He started and realized they were in the bunker's garage.
He groaned and peeled himself off the window, then swallowed hard; even that small movement making his stomach roil. He hiccupped sickly.
"Hey, you good?" Sam asked him, his face concerned.
In answer, Dean yanked his door open and collapsed, throwing up on the concrete floor of the garage. He heard Sam sigh, and felt hands under his arms as he finished, lifting him upright. Dean weakly wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
"Come on, man, you need to get into bed. Or…sleep on the bathroom floor or whatever."
Dean only grunted, feeling like crap. His stomach rolled from moving, and it was everything he could do to keep from vomiting again.
Sam kept a hold of his arm as he led him inside, and Cas met them as they passed trough the war room, a book in his hands.
"Sam, Dean, you're back," he said, sounding relieved, then took a closer look at Dean. "Dean, are you hurt?"
"He's got food poisoning," Sam said.
"I'll b'fine tomorrow," Dean murmured before he hiccupped sickly again and groaned.
Sam pressed his lips into a thin line and hustled Dean to the dormitory wing. "Okay, let's get you into bed."
They made a pitstop at the bathroom first where Dean threw up again, then he washed up a little before Sam helped him to his room. Dean was thoroughly exhausted by the time he got there, just barely managing to strip to his t-shirt and boxers before he collapsed on the bed.
Sam heaved a sigh and draped a thin sheet over him and Dean was vaguely aware of Cas coming in and setting a bucket by his bed.
"Is there anything we can do for him?" the angel asked.
"Let him sleep it off," Sam told him and patted Dean's shoulder. "Let us know if you need anything, man."
Dean grunted, the full extent of his vocabulary right now, and was already drifting off, hoping to sleep through the worst of this.
Dean woke groggily the next morning in a puddle of drool, and turned over to grope for his phone, which wasn't on the side table. He sat up, blinking the exhaustion from his eyes and feeling a little dizzy.
He glanced around and saw his discarded jeans on the floor and figured that's where his phone was.
He took stock of himself as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, but his stomach didn't slosh around sickly, which actually surprised him. He grabbed his phone and saw it was the next morning and he was shocked he had slept through the night without vomiting a million more times like he usually did when he had food poisoning. Looks like he had dodged a bullet.
He was extremely hungry though, he realized suddenly. There was the empty feeling of having nothing in his stomach, and it gurgled plaintively. Dean dressed quickly and made his way to the kitchen.
It was still early and Sam didn't seem to be awake; Cas wasn't around either, maybe in his room or something, but Dean put some coffee on and grabbed a bowl of cereal.
He ate it eagerly but was still hungry afterwards, so he made some eggs and bacon, the smell of the cooking meat sending even more hunger pains to cramp his stomach and he eagerly tucked into the hot meal when it had finished cooking.
Sam wandered in still in his pajamas with bedhead and a hand covering a yawn. "Hey," he said. "I guess you're feeling better?"
"Yeah, I'm just starving," Dean said, and shoveled more of his eggs and bacon into his mouth.
"Well, I'm glad," Sam said and grabbed a cup of coffee. "I wasn't looking forward to cleaning up more vomit."
Dean finished his breakfast and drank two cups of coffee, feeling better.
Cas joined them in the kitchen then, and looked relieved to see Dean up and about.
"You're better?" he asked.
"Yeah," Dean assured him. "Told you all I had a stomach of iron."
Cas and Sam shared a longsuffering look before Sam spoke up, "So how can we help you with the search for Kelly, Cas? We haven't gotten another hunt, so let's make this a priority."
"Well, there's a couple of sources I thought we could look into, but I'm not very good with computers."
"Don't worry, I'll help you with that angle," Sam assured him. "And I'll show you how to do it to so you can do it yourself next time."
Dean's stomach gurgled again and he frowned, pressing his hand to it as he felt what seemed like hunger pangs again. Not like he hadn't already eaten a huge breakfast. But maybe it was just his guts telling him to slow down. Maybe he wasn't back to health completely yet. He should stick with his coffee for a while.
He went with Sam and Cas into the war room where they had set up the boards with the information on Kelly Kline and they started checking into all the possible corners of where she could be. Dean tried to concentrate on what he was doing, but the minor discomfort in his stomach was becoming worse and worse until it felt like he was cramping. His brow pinched and he rubbed at his belly, wondering what the hell this was all about. It didn't really feel like food poisoning anymore and it was honestly kind of uncomfortable. And yet even with the discomfort, he still felt hungry on top of it all.
Eventually, he couldn't ignore his gurgling stomach anymore and stood up, startling Sam and Cas with his abruptness. "Well, I think it's time for a lunch break."
Sam frowned slightly. "Dean, you just ate two hours ago, don't you think you should take it easy?"
"I'm hungry, Sam, I think that's enough of a sign that I'm feeling better," Dean said with a shrug. "I think I'm going to go make a sandwich."
"Okay, whatever, Dean," Sam shrugged, shaking his head.
Dean went into the kitchen, and grabbed the stuff for sandwiches out of the fridge. His stomach gurgled insistently, and he frowned as he piled meat and cheese and even some lettuce onto his sandwich, finishing with mustard and mayo. He didn't know why the hell he was so hungry, it felt like he hadn't eaten for days. In fact, he didn't think he had been this hungry since he had gotten out of Purgatory.
He didn't even wait to get back to the war room and simply picked the sandwich up and took a huge bite. He chewed hungrily, and ate half the sandwich rapidly before he decided he should probably slow down.
He reluctantly set the sandwich back on the plate and picked it all up to join Sam and Cas again when he nearly staggered due to the spike of pain that shot through his stomach. He gasped, dropping the plate back on the counter and clutching his stomach, the pain so sharp, it had taken his breath away.
He rode out the wave of pain and then felt his stomach gurgle again.
"The hell?" he muttered to himself as he straightened back up. Okay, so maybe he wasn't back one hundred percent. Maybe Sam was right and he should take it easy. That still didn't explain why he felt hungry though. This was certainly the strangest case of food poisoning he had ever had.
He cautiously picked up his sandwich again and went back to the war room, sitting down with the others and picking up his book again, researching while he ate the rest of his lunch more slowly without any repercussions.
He tried to concentrate on the research for the rest of the afternoon but his stomach became increasingly crampy. Like the kind of hunger pains that were so bad they felt like your stomach was trying to eat itself. It was getting harder for him to sit still without squirming around in discomfort. But he didn't want to alert Sam and Cas because he didn't think there was anything really wrong, and they would just annoy him with their mother-henning. He simply rubbed his stomach surreptitiously under the table, trying to get it to calm down a little. Whatever bug he'd caught, it was really a doozy.
He was so busy trying to concentrate on his research that Sam startled him by getting up, his chair screeching across the wood floor. "I need some coffee. Anyone need anything?"
"Sounds good to me," Dean told him, even though he wasn't sure putting dark coffee into his stomach was a good idea. He began to think that the sandwich hadn't been a good idea either, even though there was a part of him that still thought he was hungry beyond the cramping pain. He stood up as well and followed his brother to the kitchen.
Dean measured out the grounds for the coffee maker while Sam got the water and soon the smell of freshly brewing coffee was filling the kitchen. It was both appealing and sickening to Dean. He screwed his face up and went to grab cups.
As he was at the sideboard though, his stomach gave a painful twist deep inside and he couldn't help the small gasp that escaped his throat. He had to reach a hand out to grab the table, the pain so bad it made him weak in the knees.
"Dean?" Sam's worried voice came from the other side of the kitchen. "You okay?"
Dean shook himself and straightened up, waving a hand dismissively. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm—gah!"
Pain tore through him like he had been shot. His legs turned to jelly and he collapsed onto his knees, doubling over. The pain was so bad, his stomach rebelled, but when he retched nothing came up and he was left doubled over and dry-heaving as Sam's hands clutched his shoulders, trying to see what had happened.
"What's wrong?" his brother demanded.
"I—I don't know," Dean forced out through gritted teeth. "M-my stomach…"
"Sam, Dean?"
Cas came into the room and instantly ran over to them, hovering close by. "What happened? Is Dean sick again?"
"I don't know," Sam said, worry clear in his voice. "Let's get him into bed, though."
Sam and Cas heaved Dean onto his feet and he cried out again as the movement sent another wave of agony through his belly. He couldn't get his legs to work and they practically dragged him to his room and deposited him onto his bed where he curled up into a fetal position for a few long seconds before the pain finally passed and he was able to straighten out a little, opening his eyes to see Sam and Cas staring at him worriedly.
"Dean? What happened?" Sam asked softly.
Dean pressed one hand to his still twinging stomach and pulled himself up against the pillows. "I don't know. My stomach's felt a little weird today, which, considering the food poisoning wasn't strange, but all of a sudden I just felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside."
Cas frowned. "And that's not common for food poisoning?"
"Not usually," Dean said.
"You've been stuffing your face all day, Dean," Sam pointed out. "I thought you were feeling better."
"Yeah, that's the weird part," Dean grunted. "I've been starving. Like…so hungry I couldn't not eat. I—I still kinda feel hungry." He didn't want to believe it but as he said it, he knew it was true.
Sam's brows furrowed as if thinking of something and Cas stepped forward, one hand held out. "May I?"
Dean rolled his eyes slightly, but nodded. The angel reached out and touched Dean's forehead, closing his eyes with a frown. Then he moved his hand down to hover above Dean's stomach for a second before he pulled away, his brows still furrowed.
"Well?" Dean asked.
"I don't know," Cas admitted, seeming slightly confused. "I don't detect a virus in you, but…"
"But what?" Dean demanded, feeling slightly uncomfortable now.
Cas shrugged helplessly. "That's what we need to find out."
Meanwhile Sam was also looking contemplative, biting his lip before he opened his mouth to speak hesitantly. "Um, Dean, you know the case we were just on?"
"Yes," Dean said slowly, really not liking where Sam was going with this so far.
"Well, one of the victims' wives told me that before her husband died, he was eating everything in the kitchen. Like, he was apparently really hungry."
Dean's stomach gurgled at the mention of food and he folded his arms over it to get it to stop. "Okay, yeah, but we had no proof that any of the other victims were doing the same."
"No…but…we didn't know exactly how that thing was killing people either," Sam continued, his face scrunched up in distaste.
"It was eating people's insides, Sammy, kind of cut and dried," Dean snapped and winced as the pain lanced through his stomach again.
"Okay, but, all these people died in suburban areas, places that a giant bug would have probably been noticed. But they had all been out where we found the thing the same week they had died. What if…what if they brought home what killed them instead of the thing coming to them?" He looked like he really regretted what he was about to say next. "Dean…when it attacked you did it…sting you, or…or put anything in your mouth?"
"What the hell?" Dean demanded. "Of course no—" And then he remembered being knocked down by the thing and blacking out, waking moments later as Sam cut the head off, the nasty taste of the slime in his mouth that he had quickly spit out. He'd thought it had gotten there from the beheading, but what if…
"Oh son of a bitch," Dean groaned, feeling bile rise in his throat as he clutched his stomach protectively. "You think that—that thing put something in me? Eggs?"
Sam cringed. "I don't want to think that either, Dean, trust me, but we kinda need to know if something's going to eat you alive from the inside out."
"Not helping, Sam!" Dean snapped.
"What was this creature?" Cas asked, glancing between the brothers.
"Some giant bug bastard," Dean grunted as he pushed himself from the bed and walked over to the sink on one side of the room to grab a glass of water. Just the thought of having something—something living—inside of him made his skin crawl. "And I think we need to figure out exactly what before it goes Alien on me."
"Agreed," Sam said. "I'm going to hit the books." He turned to Cas. "Cas, is there any way you could see if there's…you know. Or how to get it out?"
"I can try," the angel said.
Sam shot his brother a sympathetic look. "Just…hang tight, Dean. I'm gonna see what I can find in the archives."
Dean grumbled and cringed, doubling over slightly as he felt another wave of pain. Cas grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back toward the bed.
"Why don't you lay down and let me take a closer look?" the angel suggested.
Dean huffed, but crawled onto his bed again and laid flat with Cas' coaxing. The angel sat on the side of the bed and reached out, pushing Dean's shirt up and pressing his hand against the hunter's stomach before Dean could protest.
"Try to relax, this might take a moment," Cas said and closed his eyes. His palm glowed slightly against Dean's skin and Dean tried to relax, but as soon as Cas started reaching out with his grace or whatever he was doing, he felt a sickening twist in his guts and then….something freakin' moved.
"Holy shit!" he cried, jerking at the same time Cas pulled back, also obviously having felt…whatever that had been.
Dean didn't waste any time collapsing off the side of the bed and retching. Cas hurried around the bed to support him, but nothing came up. It was like Dean's stomach was empty—probably thanks to the fact he was eating for two.
"Cas, something's in me!" Dean cried when he got his breath back. "Something's freakin' in me!"
"Dean, calm down," Cas tried but Dean leapt up, his skin crawling just at the thought.
"Calm down?! Cas, there's some bug thing living in my guts, I think I'm entitled to freaking out a little! Agh!" Pain ripped through him possibly worse than before, enough to buckle his knees, and he collapsed against Cas, who caught him and swiftly maneuvered him back into the bed and kept one hand gripping his shoulder until the spell passed.
"Crap, crap," Dean muttered into his pillow as he curled into a ball. "Shit."
The door opened then and Sam came in with a book balanced in his hands, worry on his face when he saw Dean. "How are you doing?"
"How does it freakin' look, Sam?" Dean growled.
"Did you find something," Cas asked, standing up.
"Yeah, I think so," Sam said, sitting at the desk and glancing down at the book he held. "So, apparently this thing is indigenous to South America, usually only seen in the rainforests, but somehow one got here."
Dean groaned. "Skip the Discovery Chanel crap, dude."
Sam pressed his lips together and continued. "So, these things procreate by passing their larvae into hosts, and when the larvae grows big enough it…well…" Sam stopped, cringing.
"What, Sam?" Dean demanded. "We already know how this story ends, just spit it out!"
"It eats its way out of the host," Sam finished, his face tinged green.
Dean closed his eyes. Yeah, he knew that was where it was going, but hearing Sam say it out loud didn't help. He clutched his stomach as another spasm tore through him. "So how long?"
"Typically, a week," Sam said. "But…from the sound of your symptoms, probably three days at best. The one in you might be older."
Dean cursed.
"So how do we get rid of it?" Cas asked. "I don't think my grace is strong enough to obliterate it currently, not without risking harm to Dean."
"Well, the larvae lives like a tapeworm in the host," Sam said. "Feeding off whatever they eat—which is why you and the other victims were so hungry, I guess." Sam winced, and Dean knew this had to be hard on him too, but god he hated his brother right now for his clinical descriptions. "But when I was doing research I found this file in the archives that had a recipe for 'eradication'."
"You could have led with that, Sammy," Dean grunted.
Sam gave him an apologetic look. "Problem is, we don't have all of the ingredients. But I called Rowena and she's going to bring what we don't have."
"How long?" Dean asked.
"A few hours," Sam said. "She's going to call when she gets into town."
Dean groaned and buried his face in his pillows. "Sam, this is the last freaking grunt mission we go on for those Limey douchebags."
Sam didn't answer, but he looked just as pissed as Dean felt. He stood up and closed the book. "I'm going to go gather the stuff we do have. Why don't you try to rest?"
Dean glowered at him. "Seriously? You think I can rest when I'm some friggin' bug larvae host?"
"Dean, come on, what else are you gonna do?" Sam said. "And according to the file the cure isn't exactly pleasant."
"Neither is this," Dean snapped, but pushed himself out of bed to grab more comfortable clothes. His jeans felt tight and restricting on his aching stomach so he grabbed his sweat pants.
"I'll go help Sam," Cas said, realizing correctly that Dean would rather be alone with his misery. "Let us know if you need anything."
Dean grunted and suppressed the urge to flip them both off. He changed once they had left and crawled back into the bed, closing his eyes even though he didn't think he would sleep.
He was wrong though, because it wasn't long after he lay down that he dropped off. In fact it wasn't until he began to have major pains in his stomach that he was pulled from sleep with a groan.
The pangs lanced through his middle, feeling like hunger and yet also like he was being run through with a hundred knives. Dean curled into a ball, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to go back to sleep to evade the pain, hoping it would pass, but instead it only seemed to get worse, the pain more insistent, and then he felt something move deep inside of him before the pain escalated to new heights that forced a cry of agony from his lips.
He felt like he was paralyzed, the pain from his middle radiating out until all his nerve endings flared. His t-shirt stuck to him with a cold sweat and he clawed at the bed sheets as if trying to escape the agony that was consuming him.
And then he felt it. That thing inside of him, lashing out as if angry. The pain ratcheted up even further and he gave a strangled scream.
The door slammed open just as he fell off the side of the bed and onto the floor, not even remembering having moved. He just seemed to be trying to escape the pain any way he could.
The thing moved again, feeling like it was already eating him alive and Dean clawed at his stomach, desperate to get it out.
"Dean!" a far away voice called.
"Get it out! Oh god, get it out!" he screamed as he felt arms grab him, trying to haul him back onto the bed. Someone pried his clawing fingers away from his own flesh and another hand pressed against his stomach. He gave a strangled scream as he felt the thing inside of him flip out but after a few long seconds of absolute agony, the pain began to dwindle and the thing stopped moving.
Dean lay limp and panting as the agony faded to more manageable twinges. He finally became aware of people talking to him and realized he was lying half in Sam's lap as his brother's arms supported him, probably keeping him from falling off the bed.
"Dean? Are you alright?"
Dean blinked and saw Cas standing beside his bed, leaning over him, a worried expression on his face.
Dean groaned, tentatively touching his stomach, but it seemed like the thing had stopped moving. "What…?"
"I think I was able to put it to sleep for the time being," Cas said. "And heal the damage it had done to you."
Dean balked. "What?"
Sam extricated himself from Dean gently and propped his brother up with pillows. "Yeah, I guess if you don't eat anything, it starts to go for whatever it can get. You."
Dean felt like he was going to scream. He wanted to be out of this nightmare. Of all the things that had happened to him over the years…he thought that aside from getting ripped apart by hellhounds (still number one) this was definitely the worst.
"I don't want to hear any of this," he said. "Where's Rowena?"
"She should almost be here," Sam said, checking his watch anxiously. "At least Cas was able to stop it for now."
"But maybe you should eat something. I don't know how long it will stay under," the angel said.
"No way," Dean said, sickened by the very thought of food right now, especially if it would just be feeding his new roommate.
"Dean would you rather it try to eat you again?" Sam asked desperately.
Dean gave him a longsuffering look and slumped back against the bed. Sam left and came back a few minutes later with a bowl of oatmeal and toast. Dean's stomach simultaneously growled for the food and felt nauseous. But, like Sam said, it was better than being eaten alive.
It got worse though, by the time he finished the food, he began to feel the thing moving inside of him again and he groaned, curling on the bed. Cas and Sam both looked at him worriedly.
"It's awake," he grunted and nearly threw up as he felt it pressing against his skin from the inside. "I think it's getting bigger too."
"Just hold on, Dean," Sam said softly, gripping his shoulder.
Just then a knock came on the bunker door and Sam hurried out of the room. Dean heard his voice and Rowena's discussing something and then the door closing.
"Well?" Cas asked as Sam came back into the room.
"She brought the supplies, but she said she didn't want to stick around for this," Sam said and glanced apologetically at Dean. "Apparently it's really not a pleasant fix."
"Well, having this thing eat its way out of me isn't a pleasant fix either," Dean snapped and Sam shrugged.
"I'm gonna go get the stuff together."
He and Cas set up the bowl and the ingredients on Dean's desk and started to mix them. Dean watched, perched on the side of the bed, wishing they would hurry up, but also apprehensive about this cure. He didn't even know how it was supposed to work.
"Okay," Sam said, giving the bowl another stir before he carefully poured the contents into a glass. Dean sighed inwardly. Of course it was something that was going to have to be drunk.
"Okay," Sam said again, taking up the glass and turning toward the bed. "The only thing that the instructions said was that you're supposed to drink this and then it 'starts working'."
"Great. I love it when they're vague," Dean grunted then cried out suddenly as he felt a shooting pain drive through his middle. He curled up and Cas hurried to his side, gripping his shoulder before he fell onto the floor.
"Let's just do this, now," Dean gritted through clenched teeth and reached out to grab the cup from Sam, only hesitating a moment before he tossed it back.
It was chunky and utterly revolting and Dean fought the urge to simply barf it back up. He sat there, Sam and Cas watching anxiously as he set the glass on the desk.
"Well?" Cas asked.
Dean shrugged. "I don't know. I don't—gah!" The thing inside him felt like it flipped around. He gasped and clutched his stomach and then a wave of very acute nausea overcame him and he collapsed onto his knees on the floor.
"Think it's working," he grunted before he started retching.
Sam quickly handed him the bowl and Dean clutched it for dear live as full-bodied heaves tore through him. Hardly anything came up but the potion, though the thing was fighting, angry. He felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside.
"Gah! Guys!" he screamed, trying to get his breath before he convulsed and heaved again.
Cas and Sam were on either side of him, keeping him upright but Dean hardly noticed their presence. It seemed like he threw up forever, and then finally, the bug thing moved. He could feel it on its way up, and then finally it clawed its way up his throat and Dean retched one last time, sending the thing out of him and into the bowl.
Everything happened at once. Sam shouted, the thing tried to scurry away, furious, and Cas simply leapt to his feet and stomped on the thing mercilessly.
Dean was so exhausted he couldn't even be relieved that it was over. He simply sagged against Sam who wrapped supporting arms around him.
"It's over, Dean," his brother murmured.
"Unghh," Dean groaned, feeling like his insides had been torn to hell. Bloody saliva dripped from his mouth and his throat felt ripped up. That thing had put up a fight on the way out.
"Cas, help me get him into bed," Sam said urgently and Dean groaned again as he was lifted bodily back into the bed, too weak to even move.
Sam took up a cloth and wiped his face clean as Cas hovered his hands over Dean's body, assessing the damage before he finally touched his forehead and Dean felt the warm of angelic healing.
That caused him to be in less agony, but he was still exhausted.
"How are you, Dean?" Cas asked.
Dean pried his eyes open a fraction. "Exhausted."
Sam smiled and ran a hand through Dean's sweaty hair. "Sleep."
Dean didn't need any encouraging.
He woke later feeling full body exhaustion, but at least there was no pain anymore. And he was alone with his own body. Dean shuddered at the memory of the whole freaking situation. He never wanted to have to do something like that again. He would never go on a case with a freaky bug thing again. No thank you. Those never ended well for anyone.
His stomach growled and for a moment, the very thought of eating made him want to throw up all over again, but it was a normal hunger, and he felt so weak from the lack of nutrients considering that bug bastard had been stealing all that before, that he knew he had to eat something.
He sighed and got out of bed, realizing Sam must have dressed him in clean pajamas, making his way to the kitchen. Sam and Cas were in there talking quietly at the table with mugs of coffee, but they looked up as he came in.
"Hey!" Sam said, a relieved smile on his face. "How are you doing?"
Dean staggered over and collapsed onto one of the stools. "Well, better than I was."
Sam huffed in amusement. "That's a pretty small margin." He got up from the table. "You hungry?"
Dean winced. "Unfortunately."
As Sam made him something to eat, Cas brought him a glass of water. Dean hadn't realized how thirsty he had been until he gulped it all down within seconds. Cas quickly refilled it and handed it back to Dean who tried to drink the second more slowly. The angel frowned and touched his forehead.
"I healed all the injuries that creature caused you, but you are somewhat malnourished. You'll need to get your strength back."
"Yeah, no kidding," Dean said, brushing him off and accepting the sandwich Sam gave him. "I never want to go through that again."
Sam nodded in agreement. "I don't want you to either."
Dean ate, feeling a little better as his stomach filled up. It was then that Sam's phone rang.
Sam snatched it off the table and looked at the caller ID. Dean groaned.
"Aw come on, don't tell me it's the Brits again," he pleaded.
Sam firmly hit the decline button and set the phone back on the table. "They can call all they want. We're not taking any more cases from them."
"Agreed," Dean and Cas both said at once.
"We will however, work on finding Kelly," Sam said. "I've actually got a couple new leads…"
Dean listened to Sam talk as he finished his food and knew that he, for one, would be glad to get back out on a mission of their own.