Dean was glad! Sam was getting better and the food did look good. Good thing, too. He wasn't sure his stomach could handle burnt bacon this morning.

Did he want to talk? No way, but he knew if he didn't, Sam would just assume the worst. Another demon attack or something. Dean sighed and shrugged a little. "You ran into another curse somewhere. When I left for work, you were fine. When I came home..."

Another shrug. "You were eleven? Maybe twelve years old?"