A/N: Thanks for all the positive reviews. I've only just started writing fanfiction, so the feedback was much appreciated. As I'm not from the US, apologies in advance for terminology errors etc.

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

Chapter 2

He slumped on the floor next to the toilet, afraid that if he moved away, he mightn't make it back in time. Not that he could possibly have anything left to throw up.

After the mad race from his bed to the bathroom, he'd only just reached the toilet before he'd started to heave. Thank god he and Sam always left the seat up – they'd have been no way he could have had the time to flip the lid. Now, after what felt like hours of heaving, but was actually only minutes, he felt completely depleted. He rested his head back on the cool tiled wall, breathing deeply. After a few more moments he felt secure in the knowledge that the nausea had passed.

Dean stood up slowly, using the sink for support. He rinsed his mouth out and splashed his face with cold water. Yeah, he felt better. He quickly flushed the toilet, eager to rid the small room of the pungent smell. He looked around the small bathroom, checking that he's left behind no evidence that he'd been sick.

Quietly, he exited the bathroom and crept silently back to bed. Glancing across the room, he was reassured to see that Sam was still snoring softly. Relieved that Sam wouldn't know he'd been sick, Dean swiftly fell into a light slumber.

It could have been hours or only minutes later that Dean was jolted awake. He noted it was still dark, but didn't have sufficient time to look at the clock before he bolted from the bed, speeding again to the small bathroom. He kicked the door gently shut before slumping to his knees on the cold tiled floor. He leant over the toilet bowl and heaved. He was surprised he had anything left in his stomach. His gut rolled again, and he leant over the bowl for another round.

He knew when it was over. His stomach had settled and his breathing returned to normal. A fine sheen of sweat clung to his forehead and he distractedly wiped his hand across his brow. For the second time that night, he rose unsteadily to his feet, body leaning heavily on the bathroom sink. The nausea might be over, he thought, but his stomach muscles ached from the furious rounds of vomiting. His throat felt raw and he was in serious need of a mouth rinse. Splashing some cold water over his face made him feel instantly improved. Hastily he rinsed his mouth and took a tentative sip of water. After waiting a few moments to ensure the water was going to stay down, he leant his face under the faucet and drank thirstily.

He flushed the toilet and crept back to his bed.

"You okay?" Sam asked sleepily from the bed next to him.

"Yeah, just taking a leak. Go back to sleep" he replied in a convincing whisper.

Dean rolled onto his stomach and concentrated on taking deep breaths, willing his body to relax. God, he was exhausted. A few rounds with the porcelain goddess had really taken its toll. He needed to grab a couple of hours of solid sleep.

Dean fell into a fitful slumber, only to be woken again just as dawn was breaking. He didn't even hesitate when he woke up to the now familiar feeling of vomit rising in this throat. Eyes half closed, he quickly stumbled to the bathroom. He thanked God that he'd woken up before Sam, and the bathroom was free.

He hoped it wouldn't be as bad as the last couple of times, but he was wrong. It was almost worse to vomit with a nearly empty stomach as it was when it was full. The vomiting quickly changed to a round of dry heaving. He tried to be as quiet as possible, not wanting to alert Sam to his predicament.

As soon as he had a break between heaves, he turned the shower on to mask the sounds. A few minutes later he flushed the offending sight away, and shed his t-shirt and boxers. Stepping into the warm shower, he felt at once soothed and refreshed under the spray of water. He leant his head against the tiles and let the water cascade over his tired shoulder muscles. He ached all over. There was a dull throb in his head and he used his hands to massage his temples.

He knew he had to get out of the shower before Sam woke up and wondered what was taking Sam so long. He turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping a towel around himself. After quickly brushing his teeth, he went back into the bedroom.

It was obvious that Sam had only just woken up. He was stretching in bed, looking around groggily.

Sam watched sleepily as Dean dug around in his bag for some clean clothes.

"Give me time to jump through the shower, and we'll go grab some breakfast" Sam said whilst battling his sheets to rise from the bed. He grabbed some clothes before heading towards the bathroom.

"Okay" Dean answered, striving to sound convincingly normal.

It was over, Dean told himself. Surely, there was nothing left in his stomach. This however didn't solve the breakfast problem. Really, he just wasn't ready to face food so soon.

Dean quickly gathered their belongings and packed their bags, settling them down on the end of the bed closest to the door.

"Thought we might as well make an early start and grab something to eat once we hit the road" Dean said as soon as Sam came out of the bathroom and saw their packed bags.

Dean grabbed the car keys to go and start loading their gear in the car.

"What's the rush?" asked Sam

"Nothing to keep us here" replied Dean on his way out the door.

A few minutes later they had checked out of their room and were heading down the highway towards the next small town. Sam looked at Dean intently, sensing that there was something not quite right going on, but unable to ascertain exactly what.

"Dude, quit staring," snapped Dean without turning his head.

Sam turned his head to look out the front windscreen, determined to continue to watch Dean, but more discretely.

He continued to surreptitiously glance at Dean from the corner of his eye. Yeah, something was up with his brother, but he knew he'd probably had to wait until Dean chose to tell him.

They were only about half an hour into the trip when Dean started to second guess his decision to hit the road. His stomach was churning again. Worse still, his bowels were also making their presence known. He wished they were still back in the hotel room and for once, didn't enjoy the comfort of the confined space in the Impala. He opened his window, hoping the morning breeze would whisk away his nausea.

A few minutes later, he pulled the car to a stop in front of a dingy diner, the fresh paint unable to disguise its age or state of disrepair.

"Grab me a coffee" he told Sam. "Gotta take a leak".

Dean moved as quickly as he could, without hitting a run. He followed the sign to the back of the diner and found the squalid excuse for a toilet. He didn't care. He dashed into the room, locking the door behind him. Unfortunately, he didn't know whether he wanted to shit or hurl first.

It was nearly 10 minutes later that Dean slowly made his way back towards the car. Hopefully this wasn't another false start. He'd tried twice already to leave the bathroom, only to be pulled back in for another round with the porcelain goddess.

Sam was leaning against the Impala, sipping from his coffee. Dean could see his coffee, now probably luke warm, resting on the hood of the car. Sam was eyeing him suspiciously as he approached the car.

Dean grabbed his coffee. "Thanks" he said before climbing into the driver's seat, refusing to initiate any further conversation with Sam.

They'd only been driving for a few minutes, and Sam had been looking at Dean the whole time.

"You sick?" he finally questioned.

Dean wasn't sure how to answer. He didn't want to give Sam months of ammunition to throw back in his face, but he didn't think he be able to hide being sick from Sam for much longer, especially if he had to go another round with the toilet. Really, he felt like crap, and just wanted to find another motel room and stay put for the day, within easy reach of a bathroom.

He compromised. "Might be coming down with a virus or something" he said, knowing full well it was that burger last night that was causing his distress.

Sam continued to look closely at Dean, assessing his health. He raised a hand and placed it on Dean's forehead.

"Dude, get off me" Dean said, slapping his hand away.

"You don't seem to be running a fever" said Sam. "You sure it's a virus?"

"Dude how would I know. Does it look like I'm wearing a stethoscope?"

"Dean, maybe you should…" started Sam

"Sam" Dean interrupted quickly, "Let's stop here for the day".

Now Sam was getting worried. Dean hadn't drunk his morning coffee, and that never happened, and now he wanted to stop after being on the road for less than an hour. Obviously Dean was feeling much worse than he was letting on.

Dean didn't really care what Sam thought or said anymore. He could feel the warning signs of another bout of sickness, and god only knows what, starting again. He didn't want to disgrace himself in front of Sam., or in public. He pulled up outside the motel and urgently ran to get them a room. He paid cash for the room on the end of the row, uninterested in haggling, or waiting for a credit card to be processed. Grabbing the room key, he yelled out the room number to Sam, tossing him the keys to the Impala. Dean jogged through the motel car park and hastily let himself into the room.

Sam parked the car and followed Dean into the room a couple of minutes later. He entered to the sound of retching from behind the closed bathroom door. Yeah, Dean was sick. He went back out to the car and grabbed their bags; they might be staying a few days.

TBC