Still don't own Supernatural.

The days dragged on. Dean eventually took off the splint and ditched the sling saying his arm itched and there was no point in him wearying it. It still hurt, but no more than the rest of him. The brothers would spend an hour or two working on the car, until Dean got too tired, then they'd move inside to help Bobby with research for other hunters. Sam took to it more, pouring over books and websites to find obscure information.

"Here." Sam deposited an old book on Bobby's desk and pointed out the information on skinwalkers the older man had been looking for. Dust floated up from the pages in the beams of light from the windows.

"Good work. Harry'll be glad." Bobby jotted down the information in his notebook. "Dean still workin'?"

"In his own way I guess." Sam looked back at the kitchen table where his brother was fitfully asleep, breathing erratically. "He lasted about five minutes."

Bobby leaned back and ran a hand over his face. "Some things never change."

Dean suddenly jerked and began coughing, reaching for his bottle of beer, now lukewarm. He missed the bottle at first, but got it on the second try.

"Wouldn't water be better?" Sam walked toward the sink.

"Nope. Beer works perfect." Dean managed a half-smile between coughs and drinks.

Sam ground his teeth but kept his retort to himself. Instead, he gathered a bowl and poured a heap of cereal and milk in. "You need to eat." He deposited the bowl in front of his brother and crossed his arms waiting for Dean to dig in.

"I'm really not hungry."

"When's the last time you ate? You missed dinner last night and I'm pretty sure you skipped breakfast."

"Really, Sammy. I'm not hungry."

"At least a few bites."

Dean groaned as he unwillingly raised the spoon. He managed to chew and swallow half of the cardboard cereal. "There, ya happy?"

Sam frowned but said nothing.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna turn in for the night."

"It's five-thirty."

"And I'm tired." Dean stood and wobbled. He tried to shake his head to clear it, but that only made the feeling of vertigo worse. He closed his eyes and slowly opened them again, gripping the table and his chair tightly. The world slowly stopped spinning.

"Dean?"

"I'm fine." He pushed off and tried to walk a straight line to the stairs. His stomach churned as he made his way upstairs, rejecting the little cereal he had eaten. The bed creaked as he collapsed on it with closed eyes. Maybe if he ignored the sickening feeling, it would go away. It was much too bright to actually go asleep with the blinds open, but he didn't want to risk moving. Instead he lay there with his eyes closed and tried to think of anything but his stomach.

He eventually cracked an eye and looked at the bedside clock. It was only six. No doubt Sam would give him grief about this tomorrow. But he just couldn't stand being awake any longer. Everything hurt with a dull, deep ache that no meds helped, no matter which or how much he took. And he was just so tired. All the time. If Sam or Bobby didn't wake him up every morning, he would probably just keep lying there.

The turmoil of his stomach reached a boiling point and he gave up, moving as quickly as he could into the bathroom. He barely made it to the toilet in time before all the partially digested cereal came right back up. "Dammit, Sam," Dean groaned as he flushed the toilet and leaned back against the tub. His mouth tasted horrible, but he couldn't bother with standing to go to the sink. The floor was just so wonderfully cool and the bathroom was so much darker than his room. The room started spinning again and he closed his eyes against it. His arm was throbbing and he couldn't decide if his head, chest, or arm was more deserving of his attention.

"Dean? Are you alright?" Sam was calling from downstairs, but Dean didn't bother to answer. He just wanted to sleep. "Dean?"

Sam's footsteps thundered up the stairs. The floor creaked as Sam looked in the room. Dean didn't open his eyes, more felt his brothers presence in the bathroom door. "Dean?" He felt hands on his shoulders, shaking him lightly.

"Told you I wasn't hungry," Dean managed groggily.

"Come on. Let's get you in bed." Sam helped pull him to his feet and walked him back to bed supporting him under his good arm. Dean kept his eyes closed the whole way, relying completely relying on his brother. He knew that the world wouldn't stop spinning while he was moving. The nausea of his stomach had been replaced by a sharp pain and he groaned as Sam eased him down.

"No more cereal."

"No more cereal," Sam agreed. "Hey, don't go to sleep yet. You don't want to sleep in those clothes."

"I like my clothes," Dean murmured, already half-asleep.

"Come on, Dean." Sam pulled Dean into a sitting position.

Dean sighed but opened his eyes and removed his jacket and shoes with Sam's help. "The rest stays on," he groaned as he let himself fall back on the bed.

"Dean-."

"Nope. Too tired." He started coughing and rolled to his side to keep from choking.

"Did you take your medicine?"

Dean nodded. He thought he remembered taking them, but even if he didn't, he didn't want to. He'd have to get back up. It didn't matter anyway, the pain meds did little now.

Dean felt Sam's hand on his shoulder as he descended into floating blackness that was the closest he could get to sleep.

Look at that, two chapters in one day. Don't get used to it, it's a very rare occurrence.

Read and Review!

~abrokencastiel