Ashen-faced, Sam shoved away his plate.
Dean pushed it back in front of him, piling a slab of meatloaf onto it, along with some corn and a biscuit slathered with butter. "Come on. Eat," he ordered.
"I can't." The smell of the food wafted up to Sam's nose and he looked a little nauseous.
"Just try, Sammy," Dean said coaxingly. "One bite. It'll help wake up your appetite up."
Sam sighed resignedly and stabbed an apathetic fork into the meatloaf. He looked up at Dean, who nodded encouragingly. "Come on, brother. The trials are over. Time to start getting better."