Sam tosses and turns all night, and Dean lays there quietly, listening to his brother's stomach growl painfully. That night he decides, this ends now. Sammy's eating, first thing tomorrow, and not just that rabbit food either. He won't let it get as bad as it did last time. He can't.

*flashback*

Dean walks into the cheap motel room John had left him and Sam in while he was off on a hunt, being sure to lock it behind him. "Hey, Sammy. Got some dinner," he says, holding out a greasy foil-wrapped burger to his little brother.

"Where's yours?" Sam asks.

"Ah, wasn't hungry." Dean shrugs.

Sam frowns. Dean's always hungry, and he sees right through the facade. They were out of money again, and Dean was making sure that Sam didn't go hungry. Even if it meant he wouldn't eat.

"Nah, Dean... I'm ok. Got a stomachache." He puts his hands on his stomach to further the lie.

Dean gives him a weird look but shrugs and says, "Ok then," opening the burger for himself.

As Sam got older, he started doing this more and more. He could tell when Dean was going hungry so he could eat, and he quickly became good at making up excuses. He had a stomachache, or a big lunch, or his friends bought him a sandwich after school. Eventually, enduring hunger so Dean could eat turned into avoiding food because he liked the feeling of being empty.

Sam was in the middle of his English homework, rereading the same sentence for the twentieth time because he couldn't focus on anything when Dean arrived with dinner. Some crappy diner food, like usual, which he offered to Sam.

"One tofu veggie burger." Dean fake gags as he hands him his food, then starts unwrapping his own, a bacon cheeseburger with fries.

Sam doesn't respond, too busy staring at the food in his hands like it's about to come alive and eat him. Dean notices and asks, "You good, Sammy? You're looking a little pale."

He seems to come out of his daze, and says, "Yeah... I'm ok. Just not hungry." He sets the burger down to go back to his textbook.

Dean's brow furrows in concern as he runs through the past few weeks in his head. "You sure? I don't think I've seen you eat in a few days. Not much at all in the past few weeks, actually."

"Yeah, I told you. My friends get me food. They're really nice." He lies with ease, having perfected it in the months that it's become a regular lie.

"Oh really? What are their names?"

"Uh..." Sam stutters.

"Sam, when was the last time you ate?"

"Geez, Dean, get off my back!" Sam exclaims. "I'm fine. I just don't want to eat. Leave me alone." And he went back to his textbook.

And Dean did. He left him alone until he got that call from the school.

Sam had passed out in the middle of PE. The school called Dean because that was the number they had for his dad, to inform him that his brother is on his way to the hospital. Suffering from "severe malnutrition," they said. Suddenly, the past few months, even years, flash before his eyes in a completely different light. How could he have missed it? Sammy, his Sammy, was unconscious in some hospital bed, all because he was too blind, too stupid, to see what was going on. And when he did, he let it slip. Dean punched the steering wheel in frustration as he sped to the hospital.

*end of flashback*

The next morning, Sam wakes up to see Dean sitting on his own bed, staring at Sam.

"Uh... Dean? That's a little creepy." He chuckles and sits up, rubbing his eyes.

"Sam." The gravity in his voice gets Sam's attention immediately.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"You're going to eat breakfast. A piece of toast, I don't care, just... something. We'll drive back to the bunker, and then we're going to talk about this." Dean's tone is final, something you don't argue with.

Sam gulps. "Dean, I..."

"No. I don't want to hear it until you've eaten something."

He looks at his brother, at the fierce determination in his eyes, opens his mouth, closes it, and sighs. "Okay."

Sam suffers through breakfast, a piece of unbuttered toast that he shoves down his throat, trying not to think. He spends the car ride back to the bunker curled up, facing the window. He hates this feeling, knowing something is inside of him, feeling it. Not to mention his stomach hurts so bad.

At one of Sam's particularly loud groans, Dean looks over at him. "You okay, Sammy?"

"What do you think?" he snaps. "Thanks to you," he grumbles through his pain.

"Yeah, well, I'm not gonna apologize for not letting you kill yourself."

He just responds with another groan. A second later, his eyes go wide. "Dean. Dean, stop the car."

At the urgency in his voice, Dean slams on the brakes and Sam opens the door just in time to empty his stomach of his breakfast. He gets out of the car, slams the door, and runs to the other side to his brother.

"Sam, Sammy." Dean rubs his back as he continues dry heaving. "You're okay. You're okay." He rubs his back until he stops gagging and lays back against the car, pale and breathing shallowly. Dean does his best to lift him back up in the car and close the door after him. "Oh, Sam," he says under his breath, his heart breaking at seeing him in this state.

"Let's just... let's just go home," Sam manages, eyes closed as he lays back against the seat.

"Alright. Ok, Sammy. You're gonna be okay. We'll fix this. I got you." He's not sure if the words are for him or Sam, but at the moment he couldn't care less.