Author's note: Many thanks for the reviews. Please, keep them up. I need encouragement to keep the writing going. Sorry, this chapter is a little short, but the next one will be longer with lots more Dean input.

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

Chapter 2

Sam supported himself by leaning against the bench. Grabbing the closest glass, he poured himself some water from the tap, quickly swallowing a small tepid mouthful.

Maybe it was better if Dean didn't see him like this, he thought, once again returning to the bathroom, preparing for the next onslaught.

He sat on the edge of the bath, too tired to bother with the effort of standing. Now, not only could he feel the churning of his stomach, but he was sure he could also hear the disturbing sound of the contents swishing from side to side.

He needed a bucket, he thought, unsure now whether he was going to hurl or shit. Yeah, the trash bin would do, he reflected, eyeing it under the sink with distaste.

He grabbed the trash can and locked the bathroom door, before settling himself down gingerly. He knew he was in for a rough time; it seemed now that his body wanted to expel its contents through both ends.

As he waited for the onslaught to begin his mind wandered. A small smile escaped as his mind drifted to Dean, wondering what he was doing now. It didn't take much imagination; Dean had enjoyed sharing snippets of information often enough. At least he knew Dean was having a lot more fun that he was right now. Not that he'd wish his current dilemma on any one.

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Sam stayed in the same position until he was forced to move to empty the offending trash bin.

He was exhausted, and his stomach ached from the relentless onslaught it had endured. He felt sweaty and he shivered whilst his whole body trembled from fatigue. As dog-tired as he was, he was unable to resist the lure of a quick shower to wash away the sweat and sickness from his body.

Stripping off, again, Sam eased himself under the warm spray of water, letting the spray run over his face, rinsing his mouth. His hands were trembling as he brushed his wet hair out of his eyes. Quickly shutting off the water, lest he be tempted to stay in there all night, he stepped out, grabbing his towel. After a cursory pat dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist before making his was slowly back to his bed. Slipping under the covers, he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

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God no, he thought, as he was harshly awoken a short time later. Dashing to the bathroom, he endured a repeat performance of his earlier episode.

Dizzily, he splashed cold water over his face and rinsed his mouth when it was finally over. Taking a small sip of water, he hoped it would stay down. He didn't know how much more of this he could take.

It was a slow trip back to his bed, as the room spun and his head throbbed. It was a relief to finally be back under the covers.

His relief was short lived though. It seemed that every time he drifted to a comfortable sleep, he was roused by his churning guts, necessitating a stumbling dash back to the now hated bathroom.

Dawn was finally breaking when Sam again made another return trip to his bed, hoping that this time he could stay under the welcoming sheets. Each trip to the bathroom had become more difficult, with the dizziness increasing and the fatigue more debilitating.

TBC.