Another wave of nausea washed over Cas and he groaned, almost going to his knees. He'd never felt like this before, never. Not even in the short time he'd been human.
A strong arm went around his shoulders and supported him over the hardscrabble soil, then deposited him on a bench. He sat still, trying to quiet his roiling stomach, ignoring the hissing whispers above him.
"What the hell, Dean? Six times? You let him ride the Tilt-o-Whirl six times?"
"I'm not his freaking mother! What was I supposed to do, drag him off?"
"Oh, shit!"
"Trash can, Sam, quick!"
SPNSPNSPNSPN
I don't know. Too subtle?