Chapter 2
Sam glanced away from the TV and the antics of the Animaniacs to look over his shoulder in the direction of the beds. He spotted his older brother stumbling toward the bathroom. It was the third time in the last hour. It wasn't something Dean normally did.
Now that he thought about it, his brother had been acting a little weird since lunch. He hadn't even given Sam a single noogie all day. Not that he wasn't happy about that. Who in their right mind would enjoy getting knobby knuckles rubbed on their head while their attacker yelled "A noogie a day keeps the boogey man away!" at the top of his lungs anyway? But it just wasn't like him.
And Animaniacs was Dean's show anyway. Sam liked it okay, but his brother loved it. He would sing the song at the beginning at full volume every single time, unless their father was present and then at only slightly lower volumes, but not today. He wasn't even sure if his brother had even watched the Pinky and the Brain segment. He didn't sing their song either. And he could normally expect Dean to keep asking him the 'are you thinking what I'm thinking, Sammy?' gag for a half hour after at least.
Sam got up and turned off the TV. He might only be ten, but he knew his brother. Something wasn't right.
"Hey, Dean?"
The bathroom door was closed most of the way. Muffled sounds he couldn't quite figure out trickled from there and they didn't sound pleasant.
"Dean-o, you okay?" Sam headed in that direction wondering what could be wrong.
The motel room wasn't that big. It was one wide open room with a small table and chairs plus the TV in one corner, two beds against the right wall, and a table with a portable stove by the semi enclosed entryway. Sam made a habit of keeping a journal of all the states they went to and the towns they visited as well as the hotels, but he'd almost not added this one. Though it'd been the best their Dad could find close to where he was going to go hunting, it was also one of the worst places Sam recalled ever being in. The room smelled -- it was like Dean's stinky socks on a wet dog rolled in cigarette butts then sprayed with Lysol. The mini-fridge only worked half the time so their drinks were never cold, and if Dean hadn't mucked around with the TV and made them an antenna from a hanger in the dumpster and some foil, they wouldn't have been able to watch anything while having to stay there waiting for Dad. The mattresses were even lumpier than sleeping outside! Dean even said so and he could fall sleep anywhere, so if he complained, it was bad.
Sam heard the toilet flush then the sink running. "Dean?"
"I hear you. I hear you!" The door swung open. "Damn, can't a guy take a piss in private around here?"
Sam felt a smile tugging at his face at hearing the usual half teasing half exasperated tone. Things were all right. "I'll tell Dad you were swearing again."
What relief he felt though, melted away as he looked up at his brother's face as the latter came out. Dean looked pale, and his brother never looked pale. Even his few pimples were an odd color. There were also dark circles under his eyes, like those Dad got when the hunt went bad or he'd been drinking after thinking about Mom too much. Something was definitely wrong.
"Dean, you sick?"
"Sick of you calling me, Dean-o, pudgy."
Before Sam could dodge, Dean put him in a headlock. No knuckles were brought to rub hard against his head, however, as his brother grunted in pain when Sam's head connected with his stomach. An acrid smell clung to Dean's clothes, which made Sam gag. Was that vomit?
He pinched the nerve on Dean's elbow and slipped out of his grip and stared at him. "You are sick!" He felt a sense of uneasiness sour his stomach. His big brother never took ill. Never.
"Like you don't tell me that everyday." Dean smirked at him, but the amusement didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Dean!"
"Oh come on, Sammy." His brother reached over and mussed with his hair. "Don't be so serious. It's no big deal."
Sam pulled away, trying hard not to pout. He hated it when Dean tried to keep stuff from him. He was more than old enough to know things now. "I don't believe you."
He heard his brother sigh. "I just ate something rotten, okay? I think the potato salad went bad. It's no big. Honest."
Sam sent a questioning look in his brother's direction. "Really?"
Dean's brows went up. "I swear. Winchester honor. I'll just take a nap and sleep it off, okay? Then I'll be as good as rain. Think you can do without me that long?"
Sam snorted. "As if!"
Though he'd never tell him, Sam felt a lot better with the reassurance. He grabbed a coloring book out of his bag and moseyed over to the table to draw, so it would be quiet while his brother tried to sleep.
He watched Dean get into the bed nearest the bathroom with a contented sigh. Sam hoped he really would be okay. Maybe Dad would make it back before Dean's nap was over. Their father wasn't normally this late.
