Sam wakes with a terrible headache, lying still for a minute in hopes that if he doesn't open his eyes, he won't have to face reality. When that doesn't work, he groans and rolls onto his back.

"Sammy?" Dean asks through a mouthful of something probably greasy and chock full of calories.

He grunts in response, staring blankly at the ceiling. He can feel Dean's gaze on him and shifts uncomfortably.

"You feeling okay?" His brother's voice is gruff, but it doesn't stop the worry from seeping into his words.

"Fine." Sam forces himself to get up, putting on a show to reinforce his answer. "You got a case?"

Dean shrugs, "Maybe. Some kidnappings out in the woods, could be a wendigo."

Sam nods. "Let's check it out."

"Alright, it's only a couple hours away. Should be a quick case, but with our luck..."

"Yeah," Sam laughs shortly and goes to grab his stuff.

Dean looks over at Sam, watching him pack. Seeing his belt falling off his slimming hips, his once-fitted flannel hanging loose on his body. This had clearly been going on for some time. How had he just now noticed?

He doesn't realize how intensely he's staring until Sam turns around and sees him. "Uh, Dean? You good?"

He nods quickly and picks up his bag. "I'll be in the car." At the door, he hesitates. "Sam, your, uh... salad is in the fridge. If you want it." He pauses for a moment before deciding that was all, and closing the door behind him.

Sam silently watches him leave before closing his eyes in frustration. It was obvious that he was upsetting Dean, which was the last thing he wanted to do. He'd have to be more careful. Eat around Dean enough to avoid suspicion, but not too much. And if it was, he could just get rid of it later.

With this in mind, he zips up his bag and makes his way out to the Impala.

*7:34 PM*

It's later that day, and Sam and Dean are sitting in a diner in Clayton, Louisiana. As suspected, the case had been pretty cut and dry. There was a wendigo taking campers from their tents and bringing them back to his cave, where he fed on them. Even though they were too late for the first victim, they still managed to save a little girl and her father. So they counted it as a win.

The waitress approaches the table, smiling kindly. "What can I get you boys tonight?" she asks in a charming accent.

"I'll have a double cheeseburger and fries, please," Dean says, then looks expectedly at his brother.

"Um, I'll have a salad, please. Dressing on the side. Thanks." He flashes her a quick smile, before looking back at Dean, who seems relieved.

"Feeling better, then?" he asks, eyes searching Sam's for any sign of distress.

"Uh, yeah, much," he replies. "Stomach bug or something, I guess." Sam's not really sure if Dean is buying it, but he seems to accept it as long as Sam is eating something. He can work with that.

When their food gets there, Sam thanks the waitress as Dean's already digging in. Sam stares for a moment, wondering how it's so easy for him. He reaches for his glass of water and starts sipping on it until Dean gives him a look. Returning it with a flash of a smile that tries to say "all good," he picks up his fork and starts messing with the salad.

He wants to eat it, he really does, but when he thinks about putting it in his mouth, every part of him is just screaming not to. Against his better judgment, he stabs a couple pieces of lettuce, and twirls his fork around in front of his face, considering.

Finally, Dean sets down his burger and looks up. "Sam."

He drops his fork. "Yeah?" he replies, feigning innocence.

"I'm not letting you go three days without eating."

"Dean, I'm fine."

"No, you're not. And you need to tell me what's going on."

Sam sighs, pushing his salad away. "I'm just not feeling good. I'll get over it."

Dean runs his hands over his face. "Sam... please..." He takes a breath. "Please tell me this isn't what I think it is."

His jaw tightens. "Dean, it's not," he answers quickly. "Really. I'm fine, just... don't worry about it. I'm sure I'll feel better soon."

"Really? Because that's what you said last time, and if I remember correctly, you ended up in the hospital."

"Dean-"

"Look, Sammy, I'm trying not to assume anything, but you're going on three days here..."

Without thinking, Sam grabs his fork and shoves it in his mouth, chewing quickly and swallowing. "There. Happy?"

Dean just sighs and brings his beer to his lips. Something is seriously wrong with Sam. All he can do is hope he's caught it earlier than he did the last time.