Supernatural Sickfic Oneshots

You Should Have Listened!

Requested by ShawnieP00. Reader is teenage little sister. Enjoy!

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You ran away from the house with Sam and Dean in tow, just as the gas line blew, blowing up the house and throwing alI three of you to the floor.

Once recovered, you all got in the impala, laughing at the antics of the ghost.

"Did you see it throw that chandelier?" you asked with a giggle.

"It threw a chandelier?" Dean asked in shock, as he drove back to the motel.

Sam nodded his agreement. "At the same time as it threw two couches." he said with a snicker.

"Wow, I missed a lot." Dean said, since he had been in the basement burning the bones and the gasline accidentally.

"The ghost was a real pain in the butt." You said, rubbing a bruise on your butt. "Hey, guys, I don't feel so good." you say suddenly, your stomach starting to flip uncomfortably.

"Oh stop, Y/N, you're fine. I just swerved." Dean said tiredly, in no mood for games all of the sudden.

"Really? Why spoil a good time?" Sam asked, a bit harshly, suddenly not in the mood to laugh.

You looked from brother to brother, too stunned to breathe, as tears threatened to pour down your cheeks. You bit your tears back, quickly looking out the window, fighting so hard, but your tears fell anyways, silently tracking down your face.

Dean pulled into the motel, got out of impala, and stomped inside, followed by an equally annoyed Sam. Their annoyance and anger was enough to tell you to stay out in the car for the time being.

Two hours went by before Sam came outside looking for you, but by now, you were drenched in sweat, nauseous as all get out, dizzy as heck, and your head was positively pounding inside your skull.

"Dean's beyond pissed, get inside." he warned gently, clearly not seeing how awful you feIt.

You nod obediently, before climbing out of the impala and stretching to hide your dizziness.

"I was hoping he'd be fine by now." you admit softly, clearing your throat when your stomach threatened to come up right then and there.

"He is not in a good mood, so not gonna happen." Sam said honestly, since he had spent the last two hours listening to Dean complain.

"Sam, I really don't feel good." You try again, feeling really sick, and wishing you could curl up and sleep.

"Knock it off. I don't want to hear it." Sam said harshly, shooting you a glare that said to shut up on the topic.

You gulped and nodded slowly, figuring the feeling of throwing up would eventually pass. Or you'd bolt to the bathroom, throw up, and call it a day, no big deal.

You walked inside to see Decan was cleaning his weapons, which was a bad sign indeed.

"Dean?" You asked gently, ignoring your stomach churning violently.

"Where the heck have you been?" Dean demanded angrily, not looking up at you from what he was doing.

You backed up a few steps, looking to the bathroom and realized in that moment you wouldn't make it, then looked for a trash can. You cleared your throat a few times, before a soft gag escaped your lips.

"Um... Crap... " Was all you got out, as vomit came out of your lips and onto the floor between your feet.

Sam and Dean looked at you in shock, as more vomit came up coating your clothes and down the front of you, as you were helplessly sick.

All of Dean's anger melted away, as he grabbed a trash can nearby, and handed it to you. "You're okay, let it out." He said gently, guilt written all over his face, as he pulled your long hair away from your sticky clothes, and put it in a messy ponytail.

You vomit in the trash can back to back, barely getting a chance to breathe between waves of vomiting and nausea that wracked your frame. You could feel the weakness that vomiting left you with threatening to knock you down, so you looked to Dean, praying he caught the hint, before a bigger mess happened.

Dean caught you, as your knees buckled, and Sam grabbed the trash can before it could spill everywhere. Dean scooped you up, carrying you to the bathroom, and laid you down gently in the tub, before proceeding to help you strip with his eyes closed to provide you some privacy.

"Can you stand on your own, Y/N?" He asked you gently, his tone completely different from earlier, and he still looked like he felt guilty as heck.

"I'm too tired," you admitted, as you started trembling weakly, even as your stomach made it clear it was about to start acting up again. "Dean... I think I..." you stammer.

"Say no more, its okay if you throw up in the tub, I'll clean it up." Dean said simply, catching on quickly, as a wet burp escaped your lips.

"Excuse me." You said, blushing deep red, as you weren't one to burp normally, not around anyone anyways.

Sam walked into the bathroom with the trash can in one hand, and the other hand over his eyes. "Are you decent?" he asked, not wanting to invade your privacy.

"No, but I could use that trash can." you admit, reaching out and taking it from him, just in time to vomit into it again.

Dean handed you a towel. "Wrap this around you, so we can see you, without seeing you." he instructed, as he turned the tub water on to a nice warm temperature that wouldn't spike a fever.

You do as you were told, so your brothers could stop hiding their eyes, and they opened their eyes.

Dean took your ponytail out, and slowly started washing your hair out gently, stopping each time you threw up, holding your hair out of the way.

Sam ran around gathering clean clothes, setting up your bed, gathering meds, cleaning up the mess made earlier on the floor, and made sure that everything else was set up for taking good care of you.

Finally you stopped trying to turn your stomach inside out, and your hair was clean, so Dean left you alone to wash yourself off from covering yourself earlier. You slowly washed yourself off, making sure to cover every inch of your skin in soap, to get rid of the disgusting idea of puking on yourself. You rinsed off, gingerly climbed out of the tub, using the toilet and sink to steady yourself as you got dressed.

Once you were dressed, you got dressed, you looked at your reflection, noting how pale you looked, and cleared your throat only to gag and throw up in the sink.

Dean came running, and knocked before entering the bathroom, and stopping when he saw you hunched over the sink. "Oh honey, we need to get you laying down and relaxed." he said gently. He rubbed your back, as you started dry-heaving weakly, until you stopped and collapsed into his arms in exhaustion.

"Bed time for you." he said with a chuckle, carrying you to bed, as he laid you down and covered you up.

"Did I just hear her getting sick in the sink?" Sam asked softly, as you dozed off almost right away.

"Yeah, she isn't doing so hot. At least, she only has a mild fever, so we don't have to worry about that." Dean said, as he felt your forehead lightly, being careful not to wake you up.

"Think she will sleep for a while, or be up and sick again?" Sam asked, having emptied the trash can and was now placing it beside the bed.

"She was dry-heaving, so I think her tank is on empty." Dean said calmly, walking over to finish cleaning his weapons, his eyes on you as you slept.

Sam nodded, as he moved to research their next hunt on his laptop.

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Sam and Dean took turns taking care of you, as you woke up repeatedly, to throw up and dry-heave over the next twenty-four hours, but you finally stopped and were able to sleep it off and get better after a long day. And all three of you slept deeper than you had in months. 

I hope you enjoyed this little fic. As always: vote, comment, and request away. Love you all! <3