When Dean woke up he forgot for a moment what had happened and made the mistake of moving his head to one side to see where he was.
The feeling of the entire room tilting on it's axis was enough to remind him of the previous days events and also one hell of a lesson that moving was a really bad idea.
"Sam!" he managed to get out and the way his brother jerked upright, blinking owlishly, would have been amusing were it not for the fact he was about to hurl.
"What? Dean?" said Sam, his brain trying to catch up with the speedy wake up call.
One look at Dean's face though told him all that was important right now and he grabbed a bowl and had it in front of his brother with lightening speed.
He winced as Dean heaved, even though there was nothing there. He was reduced to rubbing his hand over Dean's back in a soothing motion again and he wished for the millionth time there was something he could do.
When Dean was finally done Sam helped him lie back down. Putting the bowl out of sight he poured some water into a glass and put his hand on Dean's shoulder.
Dean opened his eyes, which had been squeezed shut, and squinted up at Sam.
"You should try and drink something." said Sam softly and Dean sighed but he let Sam help him sit up and hold the glass to his mouth so he could drink. He should have been holding the glass on his own and telling Sam not to mother him, but right now he really didn't care.
He wondered if he could persuade Sam to shoot him later.
The few sips Dean managed weren't really enough in Sam's opinion but he was aware now was not a good time to start pushing his brother.
"I really hope next time the spirit just kills me and has done with it." said Dean as he waited for the room to stop spinning.
He swore he actually felt Sam's glare and sure enough when he opened one eye and glanced at his brother, Sam looked anything but amused.
"So not funny, Dean." he said and Dean sighed.
"Trust me, if you could feel what this is like you'd put me out of my misery." he said.
What do you know? It actually was possible for Sam to glare more than he already was.
"Dean.." he began but Dean held his hand up.
"Look, just forget I said it ok? Can we please talk about something else – like when the hell I can get out of here?" he said.
Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure you should be in such a rush to leave, Dean. I mean you can't even move your head without throwing up, how are you going to walk out of here?" he said, his voice radiating concern.
Dean opened both eyes and managed to actually focus on Sam with as much force as he could manage.
Which admittedly really wasn't that much right now. But it was the principle that counted.
"Sam, I swear I am leaving this hospital if I have to crawl on my hands and knees. Now will you please go and see about getting me signed out?" he said.
"You are so stubborn." said Sam, frustrated, but Dean just continued to stare until finally he gave in.
"Fine!" he said, throwing his hands up and storming out of the room in search of Dean's doctor.
Despite how cosmically awful he felt Dean had to grin. Sam still threw a tantrum like he did when he was 5 years old when it came down to it.
10 minutes later Sam came back in the room.
"Ok, so your doctor said there's nothing they can really do so they're letting you leave. I've done all the paperwork so all we need to do it get you dressed and we're good to go." he said.
"We are not getting me dressed, Sammy – not unless you wanna wind up on your ass." said Dean and Sam snorted.
"It's Sam, and you're the one who's gonna be on your ass if you don't let me help you. Quit being so stubborn." he said.
Dean debated digging his heels in but truth was despite the bravado he really wasn't sure he could manage getting dressed by himself right now. Hell, sitting up without his head exploding was gonna be an issue.
"Fine." he said, through gritted teeth.
Sam smiled a little at the victory but was careful not to let Dean see. They might as well try and keep things non violent, for now at least.
Going over to the locker he grabbed Dean's stuff. Dropping it on the edge of the bed he went back round the other side and helped Dean push back the blankets.
"Ok, you ready?" he said, sliding his arm behind Dean's shoulders.
Dean put a hand on Sam's chest to stop him for a second.
"I swear to God, one inspirational comment or so much as a 'well done' comes outta your mouth I will shoot you as soon as I can see straight." he said warningly.
Sam couldn't stop himself grinning at the typical Dean-ness of that comment.
"You mean I should cancel the cheerleaders who were gonna do a routine while I helped you tie your shoes?" he said dryly and Dean whacked him lightly on the back of the head.
"Wise ass. Lets just please get this over with." he said, feeling colour creeping into his cheeks already at the fact his little brother was about to help him get dressed.
"Hey." said Sam softly and when Dean looked up he saw Sam was completely serious suddenly.
"This is not a big deal, ok? Just think of it as payback for all the times you helped me get dressed." he said with a smile and Dean found himself touched that Sam seemed to think this was not an issue.
He swallowed. "Yeah well, you always did have this mental block about colours. I swear if I hadn't taken care of it you'd have spent your whole childhood looking like you got dressed by Stevie Wonder." he said, trying to lighten the moment.
"I liked bright things." said Sam defensively, knowing full well what Dean was doing.
Deciding he couldn't put it off any longer, Dean took a deep breath and sat up with Sam's help. He closed his eyes as everything span and held onto Sam's arms so tightly he was sure he would leave bruises.
Sam meanwhile took Dean's comments to heart and kept quiet, just making sure wasn't going to slide off the bed and letting him get his bearings.
Eventually after a few minutes Dean risked opening his eyes. Everything was at a weird angle that made him feel like he was in one of those Fun Houses at the fair but if he kept pretty still he could just about live with it.
"Ok?" said Sam, watching him intently and Dean was about to nod when he remembered that was really not a good idea.
"Yeah, I'm good." he said and didn't miss Sam's incredulous look that told him his brother was of the opinion he was far from good.
Between them they managed to get him dressed without him throwing up or passing out, which Dean considered a minor miracle right now. The fact Sam was giving the impression this was the most natural thing in the world for him to be doing made the whole situation a lot less embarrassing and Dean was grateful for that.
He held tightly onto the edge of the bed while Sam put his boots on.
"Ok, you wait here and I'll go get the wheelchair." said Sam as he stood up.
"Oh come on! No way, Sam – not in a million years." said Dean firmly but Sam wasn't giving in this time.
"You got no choice, man. It's hospital policy. Either you leave in the chair or you stay here." he said and Dean practically growled.
"God I hate hospitals." he said, glaring at the world in general.
Sam took that as acceptance and disappeared into the hallway briefly, coming back with a standard issue wheelchair that Dean looked at as if it was possessed.
"It's not gonna bite you know." said Sam, his lips twitching and Dean glared at him.
"This from the man who was frightened of a clown chair." he retorted and now it was Sam's turn to glare.
"I knew I shoulda let you fall on your face." he muttered, even though both of them knew that would never happen.
Dean got into the chair with a little help from Sam and sat there, staring mutinously at everything.
Sam made sure he had the list of instructions and the prescription he was going to pick up later in his pocket and carefully took the brake off on the chair.
"Just let me know if you want to stop." he said and Dean huffed.
"Just get it over with would you?" he said and Sam turned the chair round slowly so they were facing the door.
Dean tried closing his eyes but quickly realised that made things worse. Instead he found a fixed point on his leg and tried to stare at that. If he concentrated hard enough he could just about live with the movement.
He was relieved when they reached the doors after what felt like an eternity and he took a deep gulp of fresh air as he felt his stomach churning.
"Car's just over there." said Sam, putting the brake on and walking round to help Dean get up.
Dean looked up and by squinting he was able to focus enough to see the Impala. Looking at his baby gleaming in the sun was enough to make him smile as always and Sam rolled his eyes. It really did scare him sometimes the relationship his brother had with that car.
He put his hand on Dean's shoulder, but before he could say anything Dean batted it away.
"I got it." he said and Sam raised an eyebrow.
"Oh really?" he said and Dean looked up at him. Or at least in his general direction.
"Yes, really." he said.
Letting Sam help him get dressed when only the two of them would ever know about it was one thing. Having his little brother help him to the car was an entirely different ball game.
"Fine. Go right ahead." said Sam, stepping back and standing there with an expectant look on his face.
Dean did his best to ignore him, concentrating instead on the Impala. He could do this. It was just a matter of standing up and walking, something he'd been doing since he was a year old. How hard could it be?
To Sam's credit he didn't yell 'I told you so' or do a victory dance when Dean stood up and promptly lurched forwards, heading for the asphalt at speed. With the reflexes of a hunter he caught his brother and held on tightly while Dean gripped Sam's arms again despite himself and closed his eyes as he waited for the world to right itself.
Sam gave him a few moments before he spoke.
"Now will you let me help you to the car?" he said, with just a hint of smugness in his voice. It was hard to enjoy being proved right when Dean was so clearly suffering.
"Dude, I am not holding your hand to get to the damn car!" growled Dean and Sam huffed.
"Fine! Fall on your face and inch your way across the parking lot using your nose – be my guest." said Sam with frustration.
Dean muttered something under his breath that Sam had a feeling he should be glad he didn't hear before his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"Alright, let's just get this over with." he said flatly and Sam found himself hating the defeated tone of Dean's voice.
"Put your arm round my back and just let me steer, ok?" he said softly, trying to leave Dean as much dignity as possible.
Dean heard the worry and sympathy in Sam's voice but he didn't really care right now. He just wanted to get back to the motel and lie down until this whole thing went away.
"Hey – you alright?" said Sam gently and Dean opened his eyes to be confronted with Sam's worried expression.
He sighed to himself. This wasn't Sam's fault and he knew he wasn't being fair taking it out on him.
"Yeah." he said, trying to look apologetic since he wasn't actually going to say the 's' word out loud.
Years of experience meant Sam saw it though and he smiled briefly in acknowledgement.
Dean was pretty sure they must have looked like they were drunk, given the way they weaved their way to the Impala even with Sam doing his best to keep them in a straight line. He'd never been so grateful to actually reach his baby and he clung onto the roof briefly as Sam opened the door.
Sliding into the seat Dean waited for Sam to shut the door and then leant back against it, so he was kind of wedged in the corner.
Sam got in the driver's side and shot him the 20th concerned look of the hour.
Not that Dean was keeping count.
"Are you.."
Sam didn't get to finish his sentence as Dean cut him off.
"I swear, Sam, if you ask me if I'm ok one more time I am not gonna be the only one with a head injury." he warned.
Sam sighed. Oh yeah – this was gonna be a long few days.