Hi guys, I hope you enjoy another Sick Dean, in later chapters there is probably going to be hurt Dean as well. As always any ideas are appreciated. Review and favorite it means a lot to me. I'm still working on my other two stories, just editing them. Anyway thanks for reading!
As always I own nothing besides I think if I did I would never leave my house!
Dean sat silent in the back of the Impala, Sam continued to talk to him about all the things they had learnt at school and how he thought it was unfair that yet again that they had to move after only going to that school for one week. " Sam, just give it a rest, " Dean muttered as he rubbed his head, it felt like the was a large marching band inside his head, and on top of that he felt really cold, he'd even been sick early but Dean didn't want his dad worrying so he hadn't said anything. He just stared out at the cold frosty morning, with all the frost on the trees and the sky filled with white clouds.
He didn't notice the fact that his dad had turned around and was looking at him or that his brother had gone completely silent, he just felt tired now, on top of everything else. "Dean, you alright mate," whispered his Dad. His dad looks at his pale face but didn't think much of it; he thought Dean was probably just tired. Dean slowly turned to face his dad with a sigh, he nodded slowly and then turned his head back to outside the window, shortly after his brother and father started having a chat, well it was more Sam shouted and Dad talking then Sam talking and Dad shouting, but it was probably the nearest they had got to having a proper chat. He wished that they would just shut up, it really wasn't helping his headache.
They soon came to the motel, Dean's breath had fogged up the window, his hand grasped together tightly to try and stop them shaking constantly. His hair was slowly matting against his forehead and his cheeks were flushed bright red. He moved as slow as a sloth as he brought his sweaty hands towards the seatbelt clasp and then towards the door. As he heaved himself up and out of the car dark spots fogged his vision and the pounding in his head was making him feel dizzy and nauseous. Taking a deep breath, he began to make his way towards the motel room, trying to avoid the darkness threating to engulf him.
When he was finally sitting down on the worn mattress that sagged as he sat upon it, and down at the mouldy carpet, he began to feel worse, his stomach threating to throw all the food up and the pounding in his head getting louder. After pausing for a while, he figured having a shower might help get rid of this stupid cold, he didn't want his dad to catch him sick on the job or making a fuss considering this was one of the first time his dad had confidence with him about his hunting skills.
As he turned the shower on and the steaming hot water dripped down his skin, the shaking being to become less harsh but little did he know that his temperature was rising. His breath fogging the doors, face still pale as before and his eye still had bags under them but as he got out of the shower he certainly felt better than he had. Maybe he had been complaining over nothing. As he pulled on his t-shirt and trousers, his muscles ached but he ignored it, putting it down to not having done enough exercise.
Coming out of the shower, he spotted his brother and father yet again arguing about what they were actually hunting. Sam though it was a witch, yet his dad said it was a demon. This was the problem, they always had different ideas and it really wasn't helping his pounding headache. "Hey Sammy, shower's free," muttered Dean as he sat on the bed. Sam jumped up from his seat and ran towards the door. As he slammed the door, he shouted "It's Sam." His father chuckled at the site and Dean shot him a weary glare. John just shrugged, "You two are going to be the end of me," He mumbled. As he looked at Dean, he noticed how pale the kid still was even after having a shower. Probably a good's night sleep is what he needs.
When Sam finally came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, while Dean sat glancing at some of the research, John returned from going to get some food. Dean looked up from the research and whispered, "Jeeze, Sammy turning into a girl with all that time you spend in the bathroom." Sam looked like he was going to make some sort of retort but decided to just keep his mouth shut. Dean hair was plastered against his forehead due to the fever and his freckles where standing out due to his pale face. "Right boys, food then bed," Stated John, "And no buts, I want you up bright and early." Two large sighs followed and a couple of mumbles but thankfully no arguments.
When everyone one was finally asleep and John could be heard snoring, Dean opened his eyes. His headache made it impossible to sleep and he was shivering like mad. "This is ridiculous" thought Dean. Suddenly his stomach lunged and he rushed towards the bathroom before he threw up everything from dinner and lunch. He groaned as he dry heaved, today was not his day. His headache was getting louder every time he heaved. The shivers down his back making it hard to grasped the toilet seat.
After about an hour, he finally stopped throwing up. He sat with his back against the cool bathroom wall with his knees drawn into him and his head in the palms of his head. Salty tears filled his eyes as his body slowed shook. He was struggling with the nausea and the pounding in his head. His throat was raw and dry, his breath ragged and slowly and his heat beat fast and loud. His hair still matted against his forehead. He wished, his mum was still alive to sit beside him and care for him like when he was small but she wasn't and he was no longer a little kid.
After a while he finally decided to make it way back to bed but not before his stomach decided to bring everything up again. As he went and crawled back into the bed, he looked at the bright red clock which read, 3 am. This was not good and he was bound to have to do training in the morning and then hunt. With all the shaking and dizziness he wondered how he was going to manage to hide it from his dad. Tomorrow was going to be a long day as his eye lids threatened to close, he imagined his mum slowly singing a lullaby to him.