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Dean had led a successful hunt-hell, he was proud of himself, and Sammy, for taking down that vamps' nest. But, after spending the night at the motel, when Dean woke up, he'd heard Sammy's retching in the bathroom. "Shit," Dean mumbled under his breath, calling out, "Sammy? You good in there?" Which elicited no response from Sam.
That was a long morning, but after Sammy showering, and throwing up twice more, they were on the road. In the first three hours of their trip, Dean had to pull into some sketchy gas stations 4 times for Sammy to puke. Luckily, he'd made it each time, but that didn't soothe Dean's nerves much. After much driving in the rain, much vomiting from Sam, and much Metallica, they were finally about 2 hours away.
Dean pulled into a parking lot and got out of Baby and waked to a payphone. He dialed Bobby's number, which took three rings to pick up.
"Who is it?" Bobby asked, gruff and rough around the edges.
"Dean. Look, Sammy's sick, sorry I didn't get ahold of you sooner, but it's.. Bad. Worse than usual. We stopped a dozen times already," Dean spoke quick and to the point.
"John told me. Said you told him last night but that he was too far out to do nothin'. I cracked some ginger ale few hours ago so it'd be flat for him. Stocked up on crackers, made some broth for him." Bobby knew the drill.
"..He said he's too far out?" Dean scoffed. "Wasn't but two hours of a drive away last night, and for him, that's nothin'. Damn."
Bobby nodded along, though Dean couldn't see him. "That.. Sounds like John Winchester. Sorry he's your dad, kiddo. I got your room prepped and ready, though I know you'll probably stay in Sam's.." Bobby knew Dean well enough to know when Sammy was sick, Dean would be right by his side.
"Yeah.. Anyways, I'll see you in.. 2 hours. Gettin' close." Bobby was about to respond, when he heard a loud retching noise, the phone dropping, and a soft 'hey, hey, hey' from Dean. Bobby took that as his sign to hang up.
Sam retched hard into the wet grass. He was sweating in the 83° heat, yet he still felt cold. He threw up bile, at this point, he hardly had anything else to throw up. He swallowed, the taste sitting in his mouth. Dean got him a plastic Gatorade bottle.
"Here," Dean cracked the lid for Sammy and handed it to him. Sam spat out the remnants of bile and sipped the lemon-lime flavored liquid. It soothed his hot throat.
Dean got Sam standing up again and led him back to the car, shutting the passenger gently and going around and climbing in the driver's side. "Sammy, you want any music?" Dean offered, which was shocking, because normally he would just play Metallica and not listen to whatever Sam suggested.
"Hunky Dory?" Sam mumbled, voice hoarse from.. Well, puking his guts out. Dean never really liked the lighter Bowie stuff, but he played it anyways. And by 'Life On Mars?', Sammy was out.