Sam knew something was wrong when, after the witch bled out, Dean dropped to his knees and started grabbing handfuls of dirt, shoving them in his mouth, chewing loudly and swallowing.
Sam stared at Dean for a moment, but because of the crazy life they've led, he shook himself out of his shock fairly quickly and smacked Dean in the back of the head.
“Knock it off, dude,” Sam said.
Dean didn't stop, so Sam grabbed him by the back of the neck with one hand, grabbing Dean's arm with the other, and pulled him up.
“I heard her say famelicus. Any idea what that translates as, Dean?” Sam asked with a grimace.
“Uhm, no,” Dean said, dirt caked on his lips and dust puffing out of his mouth when he spoke.
“Hungry,” Sam said, dragging Dean toward the car.
“Well, I am,” Dean grumbled.
“We'll get something to eat once I figure out how to break the curse,” Sam said, opening the passenger door and shoving Dean in.
“I'm hungry, not incapable of driving,” Dean growled.
“I'm not dying in a car accident because you saw something you wanted to eat on the other side of the road,” Sam said, slamming the door closed and walking around to the other side of the car.
He dropped himself into the driver's seat, put the key in the ignition, and started the car. About one mile into their seven-mile drive to the motel, he heard a tearing sound. Like material ripping.
“Dean!” Sam said, surprised enough to make the car's tires roll over the road reflectors.
“What?” Dean asked, wide eyed and his mouth full of the collar of his flannel shirt.
Sam yanked on the shirt, but Dean wasn't letting go. “Open your mouth,” Sam said, trying to concentrate on keeping the car on the road.
“I'm hungry!” Dean mumbled through the material.
Sam snorted, then flipped his hand up, smacking Dean on the cheek and surprising him enough to let go of the grip on his shirt.
“Sam!” Dean yelled, smacking Sam's hand away.
“I can't believe I'm going to say this, but stop eating your shirt,” he said with a chuckle.
Dean sighed, but seemed to leave his shirt alone. For another mile, it was quiet in the car. Then Sam heard ripping again, but it didn't sound like material. He turned to see what Dean was into this time and didn't react fast enough to stop Dean from shoving a chunk of paper towel in his mouth and swallowing.
“Dean!” Sam said, shocked by what just happened even though Dean had already been eating dirt and had attempted to eat his shirt. Sam really shouldn't be surprised.
“I'm hungry!” Dean said again, as if that made it all okay.
Sam sighed. “Fine, eat your paper towel. That's the last one in the car anyway.”
Dean shoved the rest of the paper towel in his mouth and swallowed. As they pulled into the motel's parking lot, Dean started moving around anxiously, and as soon as the car was parked, he jumped out and got down on the ground.
Sam shut the car off and ran around to the other side just in time to see Dean shove a small stone in his mouth and swallow it. Sam grabbed Dean's elbow and pulled him up, using his hip to close the car door and then dragging Dean into the motel room.
“Sit down. I'll figure this out,” he said as he let go of Dean and pointed at the bed.
Dean did as he was told, but he had a scowl on his face. Sam opened his laptop and sat down at the table. It was moments later that he heard the sound of paper ripping.
“Dean, put it down,” Sam growled.
Dean shoved the piece of paper into his mouth, chewing quickly and swallowing it while Sam sighed and went back to researching for a cure.
The sound of paper tearing grated on Sam's nerves as Dean continually ripped apart pieces and ate them. Sam stood up, walked over to Dean, who now had a shredded piece of paper in each hand, and snatched the piece out of Dean's left hand as Dean shoved the piece in his right hand into his mouth.
“Dude, stop it,” Sam said, exasperated over the whole thing.
Dean swallowed loudly, his eyes watering as the paper scratched on the way down. If he'd had more time to chew and get the paper wet with saliva, it wouldn't have hurt going down.
“I can't help it!” Dean whined, eyeing the piece of paper in Sam's hand.
Sam put his hand behind his back, keeping the piece of paper out of Dean's line of vision. “Try. Just a little bit,” Sam said, then picked up the now ruined paperback book on Dean's bed and took it over to the table with him, going back to his research.
“You're going to give yourself a stomach ache,” Sam grumbled.
“It already hurts,” Dean hissed.
Sam ignored him. He wasn't finding much about the curse, and mostly what he'd found so far involved Pica disorder. Dean was cursed, and it had nothing to do with a neurological disorder. Sam heard the sound of material tearing and looked up at Dean.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
Dean just shook his head innocently, nothing in his hands, though his left cheek was bulging suspiciously. Sam stood up and Dean scooted back on the bed, sitting on something. As Sam walked over to the bed, Dean swallowed.
Sam shoved Dean, his hands on Dean's left shoulder, and Dean flailed, trying to roll back over onto whatever he'd found to eat, but Sam just dropped his body down onto Dean.
“The pillowcase?” Sam asked, grinning. “Brings new meaning to the term pillow biter,” he said, smacking Dean's ass as he let his brother up.
Dean scrambled over the bed, diving down onto the other pillow. Sam heard the material ripping, but was too late. He jumped onto Dean's back, straddling his waist and grabbing Dean's hands, but Dean had already stuffed the strip of material into his mouth.
Sam turned Dean over and held Dean's jaw, forcing his mouth open. The material was already gone, and Sam sighed loudly.
“I'm gonna have to tie you to the chair,” Sam said.
Dean frowned. “But I'm hungry!” he said.
“It's the curse. If you were really hungry, you'd eat a cheeseburger,” Sam said, rolling his eyes.
“No! Wait!” Dean growled as Sam climbed off the bed, taking Dean with him. “Sam, I'm hungry!”
“You'll live for a few hours,” Sam said, shoving Dean into a chair at the table.
“Sam! C'mon!” Dean whined as Sam quickly and efficiently tied Dean to the chair with the rope that had been sitting on the table.
The rope was conveniently left there earlier in the day when they'd thought they were dealing with some kind of creature they could capture, but they'd left it there when they figured out the one causing all the problems in town was a witch.
“Sam, I'm so hungry!” Dean whimpered.
“I know. And I'll fix this. Just give me some time,” Sam said, feeling kind of bad.
Dean wasn't usually this upset. He didn't whine over much of anything. The curse must really be messing with him.
“Yahtzee!” Sam barked as he stumbled upon the solution, but then frowned when he looked up at Dean. “Really?” he asked incredulously, then shook his head.
“I said I was hungry,” Dean growled through a mouthful of his flannel shirt, then swallowed a piece.
Sam stood up, still shaking his head, and went to Dean's duffel bag. He pulled out a candy bar from a side pocket, where Dean always kept a spare snack or two. He unwrapped it as he turned around, smirking when he saw Dean trying hard to swallow another piece of his shirt.
Sam held the candy bar up in front of Dean. “Take a bite,” he said.
“Eww, no,” Dean said, a piece of red flannel caught between his teeth.
Sam frowned. “No?” he asked, unsure he heard Dean right.
“Why would I eat a candy bar?” he asked as if Sam shoved a completely inedible piece of food in front of him.
“Well, normally I wouldn't have to coax you into eating this, but considering it's a curse, then yeah, okay,” Sam said, shrugging. “The curse will break if you eat something that actually has any kind of nutritional value,” he said as he held the candy bar up to Dean's lips.
“No! That's disgusting! What the fuck are you trying to feed me?” Dean asked, his eyes widening.
“You act like it's going to kill you,” Sam said, his voice raising. “It's a candy bar!”
Dean snorted. “Yeah, well whatever you wanna call it, it looks and smells disgusting. Hand me that napkin over there, would you?” he asked as he tilted his head toward the table.
Sam huffed. “This is ridiculous,” he said as he broke a piece of the candy bar of and shoved it into Dean's mouth. “You'll thank me later when you're eating the greasiest fries you can find,” Sam said as he held one hand over Dean's mouth, tossed the rest of the candy bar onto the table, and used his now-free hand to pinch Dean's nose closed.
Dean growled, started thrashing about, his face turning red from anger instead of lack of oxygen, though if he didn't swallow soon, the lack of oxygen would be getting to him.
“Swallow. Even if it's disgusting, just go with me on this and swallow the damn thing,” Sam said, waiting his brother out.
Dean's growling got louder, but Sam didn't give up, just held his hand over Dean's mouth, continued pinching his nose closed even though Dean was about to tip the chair over. Finally Dean swallowed and Sam let go.
“Untie me!” Dean yelled. “I can't believe you made me eat that shit! That was disgust–oh,” he said, looking surprised, then groaning.
“You okay?” Sam asked as Dean grimaced.
“Untie me, I'm gonna pu–ah!” Dean said as he vomited everything he'd ate in the last hour and a half along with the forty-four ounce soda he'd downed on the way to kill the witch. Dean groaned, dry heaved a few times, then groaned some more.
“Are you okay now?” Sam asked, wincing.
“I need a shower,” Dean said as he looked down at his pants and shirt.
“I think we need to hose you down and get a new room,” Sam said, then started untying Dean.
“I ate a rock,” Dean deadpanned.
“Yup, you did,” Sam drawled.
“And your stupid romance novel gave me indigestion,” Dean complained as he rubbed his wrists.
“Faulkner is not a romance novel,” Sam grumbled.
“Okay, well, Faulkner gave me indigestion, the bastard. And he sucks,” Dean growled.
“You ate your shirt. Any opinions you have on literature can't possibly be valid after that,” Sam said with a smirk.
Dean flipped him off.