Chapter 2: The Neverending Buffet

The next morning saw them back on the road, heading for a possible vampire nest in California…after an enormous breakfast at the local diner. Sam knew he was eating too much - it was obvious - but there didn't seem to be anything he could do about it. He was just so hungry, the emptiness gnawing at him when he wasn't actively eating something. Anything.

So he plowed through everything he could order at the diner, and he glared frequently at his brother to stop him from commenting. For once, Dean actually paid attention to his brother's warning expressions and, though there were a few pointed glances at overloaded plates, he didn't say anything.

He didn't eat anything, either. The two brothers had been pretty busy over the past few days, but that hadn't stopped Sam from noticing that whatever bug had been bothering Dean was lingering, and the days of barely eating and sticking to water were starting to take their toll. Dean looked horrible - greyish and thin, neither of which were good looks for his brother.

Unfortunately, Sam knew that the second he said anything, Dean would start pointing out Sam's overeating again, and he really didn't feel like having that conversation. Not just yet.

The car groaned and settled when he slid into the passenger seat, and Sam could feel his brother's gaze on him, another look that he ignored. Sam pulled the seatbelt out as far as he could before fastening it, not used to dealing with the extra length needed to span the round bulge of his gut.

The first twenty or thirty miles to California both brothers were silent, lost in their thoughts. Dean didn't even bother with music, which was fine with Sam - he was trying to think, not critique his brother's outdated collection. Unfortunately, the twisting of his stomach kept interrupting his train of thought, and, though he was doing everything he could to keep from eating, before they'd gone fifty miles he'd ripped open a large bag of pretzels.

A hundred miles and six bags of chips later Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother and Sam sighed.

"I know, I know, this is getting ridiculous," Sam said, and Dean snorted.

"So stop doing it."

"I can't, Dean," Sam snapped, frustrated. "I've tried to stop eating, but I can't. It's like there's something inside of me, sucking me dry from the inside out, and even if I eat all the time I'm only barely keeping up with it."

Sam didn't catch the pointed look Dean tossed in his direction, but he sure as hell noticed when the car dove into a motel parking lot. Dean parked near the office and removed his seat belt, but he didn't leave the car – a sure sign of an impending brotherly lecture. Sam sighed inwardly - he wasn't looking forward to this talk.

"What's up, Dean? We're not even to California yet."

"No, and we're not going."

"What?" Sam said, not bothering to remove his own seat belt. He'd just have to put it back on once he'd convinced his brother they needed to clean out that nest.

However, he hadn't expected his brother to be reasonable.

"Look, Sam," Dean started. "You are in no shape to hunt right now." Sam opened his mouth to protest, but Dean held up a hand. "No. You aren't, and you know it. Besides, think about what you just said." Sam waited, but his brother didn't seem to feel the need to enlighten him, so Sam thought back over the last few minutes.

It's like something's sucking me dry from the inside out.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Dean said, his worried gaze sweeping over his brother once before he got out of the car. "If that's not some sort of weird mumbo jumbo then I don't know what is. Now, get your stuff and we'll go figure out what's going on."

Two days. Two days they spent cooped up in that motel room, looking up every possible kind of life sucking, energy sucking, or soul sucking demon they could find. They looked for demons that made you fat, demons that made you hungry, and demons that did nasty things to you from afar. Then, when they ran out of ideas for demons, they started looking at other supernatural stuff, starting at the beginning of the alphabet and going all the way through. The only thing they could come up with was the Trickster, but while he probably would've found this hilarious, it wasn't quite his style.

And all that time Sam ate everything he could find. Every few hours Dean dragged himself out of the motel to find more food, laying it out like a sacrifice to a heathen god. He didn't bother getting anything in particular - Sam certainly didn't notice what he was eating. Heck, Dean purposely grabbed a few things his brother hated (prunes, anyone?), but the kid didn't even notice, he just went through them like everything else. It was almost funny, or it would've been, if Sam's stomach hadn't looked like he'd swallowed a bowling ball.

Late in the afternoon of their second day in the motel, Sam tossed his pen down on the table and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. Dean prudently decided to give his brother a break and not mention how that position pushed his ever expanding stomach outward, making it look even bigger.

"I give up," Sam mumbled through his hands before dropping them tiredly. "We've been through every possible legend, every demon anyone's ever heard of, and a few things that are only recorded as hearsay. Nothing fits."

"You can say that again," Dean said, wincing when his brother glared at him. Sam wasn't the only one who was tired – all those trips to find food had worn Dean out, and he was having problems controlling his mouth.

Clearing his throat, Dean tried to get back to the problem at hand, before Sam's glare burned his eyes out. "You're sure no one cast a spell on you?" he asked, hopeful.

Sam sighed. "Not that I remember, Dean, but it could've been cast from anywhere." He paused, his eyes losing focus for a moment, then he abruptly came back, shaking his head. "Besides, we've been through every spell we could find, and nothing would do this."

Dean tilted his head to one side. "True, but we don't have access to even half the spells a witch would."

"And I can't even remember the last time we dealt with a witch, can you?" Sam watched his brother while Dean sorted through his memories of the last few hunts, then nodded when Dean obviously came up with nothing.

Watching his brother slumped miserably at the table Dean took a breath and made the suggestion that almost got his head ripped off a day ago.

"How about we call Bobby?"

Sam's glare was immediate, his reaction so fast it was almost instinctive.

"NO," he snapped, eyes flashing. "This is bad enough without parading it around in front of other hunters."

"Sam, Bobby's not just another hunter, and you know it. And it's not like we have a lot of options right now."

"Look, I said no, alright?" And Sam started struggling to get out of the chair he was in. Dean watched, one eyebrow quirked, as his brother arched his back, set his feet wide apart, and pushed with his hands, one each on the back of the chair and the table, so that his stomach shoved forward and upward and pulled the rest of his body up. It was something of a production, and, even under the current circumstances, Dean couldn't help but find it amusing.

Unfortunately, Sam knew exactly how funny he looked, and, judging by the glare, he didn't appreciate Dean watching him. Dean was pretty sure it wasn't his fault his brother couldn't take a joke, but that didn't stop Sam from stalking (or waddling, but Dean wasn't about to mention that) towards him with murder in his eyes. Dean was just putting his hands up in the most placating gesture he knew when his brother froze, his eyes somehow both losing focus and widening at the same time. Slowly, Sam's head tilted down until he was looking at his bulging stomach, one hand hesitantly inching forward to rest awkwardly on the side.

"Sam?" Dean said after a few minutes. Sam didn't move, so Dean took a step forward and tried again. "Sam?"

"Call Bobby," Sam mumbled, and Dean relaxed - Sam was still in there, and he'd finally come to his senses.

"Okay, Sammy," Dean soothed. He started to take another step towards his brother, wanting to get him sitting down since he seemed to be in some kind of shock, but Sam's head yanked up, and Dean froze at the look of utter horror on his brother's face.

"What?" he asked, instantly on alert. "What's wrong?"

Sam spoke through gritted teeth, his eyes wide and frightened.

"Something's moving in there."