Dean returned with a bag full of breakfast. He had payed the local McDonald's a visit and gotten everything they needed for a decent meal because he was starving - and very likely Sam and Castiel too.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asked his brother who was still sitting at the desk researching something the older hunter actually didn't want to know about.

"In the bathroom." Sam answered without looking up.

Dean had a strong deja-vu and suddenly his heart was in his mouth. "You're telling me, he's been in there all of the 30 minutes I was gone?"

Sam looked at his brother in shock and mumbled: "Oh crap..."

Dean's hand was already on the handle as they noticed the sound of violent retching coming through the still closed door.

"Uh, Dean... I think you should go in and... hold his hair back or something while I stay here and... tend for the food..."

The older Winchester simply rolled his eyes before entering. The small bathroom was not big enough for three adults to be inside at the same time and Dean didn't think he would have lots of appetite left when Cas would have finished. No need for Sam to kill his mood too.

The Angel was slumped over the toilet, both hands clutching at the porcelain with white knuckles. A slight shiver ran through his cramped shoulders and he looked pitifully miserable. Dean crouched down next to him as Castiel groaned and puked more vomit with small splashing noised into the toilet.

"Hey, Cas... you're sick?" Dean felt like a total idiot as soon as the words had left his mouth.

The Angel raised his head a bit and glanced at Dean. His eyeballs were sunken with dark rings underneath. Glassy eyes met hazel ones and Castiel answered with a simpled nod.

"You look peaky..." The hunter put a comforting hand on Castiel's shoulder not quite sure what to do.

"Jimmy said I have a stomach flu."

"So... you talked to Jimmy?"

"And he said to not wake him until I am well again."

Dean just nodded. If he was in Jimmys shoes he too had asked for Cas not to bother him with this sickness.

Castiel groaned and closed his eyes for a few seconds, a small droplet of sweat running down the side of his face before he asked in an ailing voice: "How long will this flue last?"

"Not long I think... a few days. Perhaps a week. Then you're back to your old frisky self." The hunter grinned encouragingly but Castiel's face fell.

"A week?!"

When the next wave of nausea hit and the Angel was anew able to study how semi-digested donuts and apple looked, he silently vowed to never ever eat or drink anything again.