"Kill me, Sam, I mean it."

"I don't get it. We ate the same food, and I'm fine."

"Fine? Can't believe I let you eat Mexican. You're why Dad bought a gas mask."

"Ha ha."

"Next thing to come up is my pancreas."

He pulled Dean back against his shoulder. "Fever, bitchiness, nausea, sweating. What does that mean?"

"Bitchiness means you should… take your hands… off me."

"How does this feel?" He pressed down on Dean's abdomen, just above his right hip. Released.

Dean jackknifed, gasping, eyes rolling up. "Jesus."

Sam brightened. "See? You have appendicitis!"

"That makes you happy?"