A/N Okay so I don't have a beta and I haven't really checked through this, I just kind of sat down and wrote it so I apologise for any mistakes (there will be many). This plot-bunny just wouldn't leave me alone, it was stalking me so I had to sit down and write it. It's a sort of Wee!chester fic.
Sam is 14 and Dean is 18
Tell me what you think!
Sam shuddered as he weakly turned his head away from the reeking toilet and shakily reached up to flush it from his spot in between the sink and the lavatory. The churning motion of the water made his stomach lurch again and he looked away, closing his eyes and resting his aching head back against the cool tiles.
Sam Winchester felt well and truly miserable.
What made things worse was knowing he'd have to get up and be ready to go on a hunt soon with Dean and his father. That was if he could go ten minutes without puking his guts up.
Sighing shakily, he swallowed and grimaced at the sour taste in his mouth and pulled himself up onto shaking legs. He turned on the taps and bent his head down into the sink and gulped a few mouthfuls of cool water, rinsing out his mouth and drawing away.
His head was pounding and his stomach was still churning restlessly. He just wanted to curl up and sleep for a year.
Shuffling out of the bathroom and scrubbing a hand blearily over his eyes he looked over the top of the stairs and frowned when he saw his Dad already shoving weapons into a holdall.
"Dad?" He called out, cursing the slight quiver in his voice.
John looked up from his bag, turning to the source of the noise and staring up at his son who was leaning over the banisters looking extremely pale and a sheen of sweat glazed his young features.
"How're you feeling?" He asked gruffly as he tucked a pistol into his jeans and zipped up the bag.
"I'm fine." Sam lied. He knew his Dad wasn't a sympathetic type and if Sam told him he felt like shit it would just be another sign of weakness.
"What's going on? I thought we weren't leaving 'til later? I'm not ready, Dean's not ready." Sam said trying to ignore the steady throb in his temples.
Upon hearing his name Dean's head popped out from the living room door and he walked into the hall.
"What's going on?" Dean asked spotting John's already packed bag and Sam hovering over the banisters looking rather worse for wear.
"Sam, you're sitting out this hunt and Dean's gonna stay here with you."
"What?" Sam and Dean immediately asked in unison.
"Sam, you're still sick you can't come on this hunt and Dean you're staying here and watching your brother." John said matter of factly and picking up the holdall.
"Dad, I'm fine and anyway I'm 14 I don't need a babysitter!" Sam protested, descending the stairs.
"Yeah and you said you'd need our help on this one. You can't go by yourself. I can go with you." Dean added as John let out a tired sigh of frustration and ran a hand through his hair.
"No, that is my final answer. Sam you're off your game so you'll just be a liability and Dean you need to stay here with your brother. I don't want to hear another word about it." He said firmly and Dean lowered his gaze with a resigned sigh whilst Sammy bit back a retort.
"I'll be back in a few days maybe more. I've left money for food on the counter and no skipping school Monday." He said looking pointedly at Dean who rolled his eyes. He picked up the bag and walked out the house closing the door behind him with a slam.
Dean sighed audibly and looked up at Sam who was hovering at the foot of the stairs.
"Thanks freak face now I have to stay here with you all weekend." Dean said with a trace of a smirk as he walked into the living room and collapsed down onto the couch. Sam followed him in, forehead crinkled as he tried to breathe through the thumping in his head.
"I don't want you to be here either fugly." Sam retorted quickly as he sat down in the armchair.
"Charming Sammy, I give up my weekend to play nursemaid for my poor sick little brother and this is thanks I get?" Dean exclaimed in mock-hurt.
"Dean you were just saying…what…never mind," he said resignedly.
"I finally outsmarted the smartass Sammy." Dean grinned triumphantly and Sam rolled his eyes.
"No I just give up trying to sort through the string of crap that comes out of your mouth…and it's Sam." Sam added and swallowed hard, his scratchy throat aching.
"Hush now vomit boy, TV time for Dean." Dean said dismissively holding up a hand to silence Sam who snorted derisively.
"You are such a freak."
Sam tried to concentrate on the TV screen but Dean was flicking through channels so fast it made him feel nauseous so he closed his eyes and rested his aching head against the back of the chair eventually drifting off into an uneasy sleep.
---------------------------
When Sam awoke he was hit immediately by the agonizing throbbing in his head and as he tried to lift his head he winced as pain flared in his neck. He must have slept on it funny.
Groaning he sat up and rubbed his eyes. He felt like shit. He looked down at himself and was surprised to find himself covered with a blanket. It must have been Dean. Even with the added warmth of the blanket he found himself shivering.
He heaved himself shakily to his feet and stumbled as the room spun violently. Bile crept up his throat and he swallowed it with a grimace as he tried to steady himself holding onto the wall.
He'd had stomach flu before and it had never felt like this.
Taking deep, shuddering breaths he finally managed to collect himself and let out a weak chuckle. He was such a girl.
He shuffled across the hallway, socked feet whispering against the wooden floor as he heard Dean's low humming of a Metallica song resonating from the kitchen.
Dean looked up from his seat at the kitchen table where he was cleaning his Glock and frowned when he saw Sam's disheveled appearance.
"You look like hell." He remarked as Sam poured himself a glass of water.
"Thanks. I love you too Dean." Sam replied voice dripping with sarcasm as he took tentative sips of the cool water.
Dean studied his brother marking his pallid complexion, the sweat on his forehead and the grimace on his face. He didn't look good.
"How're you feeling?" He asked as Sam collapsed into a chair and cradled his head in his hands.
"Head hurts." He mumbled. Dean frowned and reached out a hand which Sam swatted away in surprise.
"What are you doing?"
"Feeling your head seeing if you have a fever." Dean said reaching out again and laying a palm flat on his forehead before pulling it away in surprise.
"Jeez Sammy you're burning up." He said as Sam merely grunted in response, rubbing his sore neck.
"Do we…have any Tylenol?" Sam asked quietly and Dean paused, thinking.
"Um…oh crap I think Dad took the last lot with him. I can run out and get you some if you want?" Dean offered as Sam shook his head and immediately regretted it, pain flaring and his stomach churning in response.
"Nah, it's okay." Sam said. It was weird Dean being so attentive but then again although he may be an ass at time he always looked out for Sam when he was sick or hurt, more than Dad did.
"I think I might just go to bed." Sam mumbled, getting unsteadily to his feet.
"Okay sick boy, I'll wake you up later and see if you want any food." He said turning back to his gun. Sam walked back out of the room and began the long climb up the stairs to his bed.
He wanted to just curl up and sleep and cry. His head and neck were hurting so badly but he knew Dean would think he was a wuss. This was just a stomach bug. He needed to suck it up like Dad always told him to.
--------------------------
Dean opened the door slowly and peered inside the dark room. Sam was hidden under a bundle of covers and sprawled across the bed. Sam wasn't someone who took up a small part of the bed, he had to cover every inch of it, having shared a bed with Sam many times Dean knew this all to well.
He flicked on the lights and tiptoed over the piles of junk strewn around his side of the room, careful not to disturb his sleeping brother as he looked for his cell phone.
Pulling out the drawer in his nightstand he rifled through the crap in there and sighed sitting on the bed. Where was his god-damned phone?
As if on cue he heard the muffled ringing of his phone and he grinned listening and trying to locate the sound of the ringing. He followed the sound and it led him to under his bed. Dropping down flat onto his stomach he reached for the phone and grabbed it triumphantly.
Glancing at the caller ID he flipped it open.
"Hello."
"Hey Dean it's Jack, just thought I'd let you know there's a party at Stacie's tonight. Big one, gonna be lots of chicks."
Dean grinned. Stacie was hot. Then he heard Sam moan slightly in his sleep and he swallowed hard.
"It sounds good man but I promised my Dad I'd stay home with my brother, he's sick." Dean explained regretfully. Why did Stacie have to have a party now? Why did Sam have to be sick now?
"Dude that sucks, can't you leave him for a few hours?" He asked and Dean sighed.
"Sorry man I can't. Tell me about it tomorrow." Dean said reluctantly.
"Okay man if you're sure…if you change your mind her house is on Beechwood Ave."
"Okay see ya." He said hanging up the phone and sighing. Tucking the phone safely into his pocket he almost leapt out of his skin when Sam spoke.
"Who was that?" He asked croakily and Dean, getting over his initial shock, felt a pang of guilt upon waking his brother.
"Jack, sorry if I woke you." He said watching as Sam leant back against the wall, closing his eyes and rubbing his neck.
"You don't have to stay here Dean, you can go out." Sam said feeling guilty that he was keeping his brother in the house. It wasn't often that Dean was able to go out and hang out with friends.
"I thought you were sleeping and don't worry about it, it's fine. I don't really feel like going out anyway." Dean lied.
Sam pulled the covers tighter around himself in an effort to quell the shivers raging through him and tried to ignore his stomach as it leapt.
"Dean seriously it's fine, I don't feel that bad anymore and I'm probably just gonna sleep the whole night anyway." Sam said as he swallowed hard, praying his stomach would just settle down.
Dean paused thinking it over. Sam had a point, he'd just be sleeping and Dean really wanted to go…
"I don't know…"He said hesitantly.
"Dean just go." He said and Dean let a smile creep across his face.
"Fine but only because I don't think I can face looking at your ugly face for much longer." He said with a grin
Sam smiled despite his aching head and threw a pillow which hit Dean squarely in the face.
"Hey, no damage to this face!" Dean protested as he quickly changed his shirt and Sam laughed weakly.
"Yeah, I suppose you're right…wouldn't want to make it any worse than it already is." Sam replied with a smirk and Dean laughed.
"I suppose I left myself open for that one." Dean said picking up his jacket.
"Yup." Sam said trying to keep a grimace of his face as his stomach churned viciously again and shivered.
"Okay, I'm gonna go…I wont be too late and there's food in the fridge if you get hungry. The salt lines are around the house and Dad put some extra wards up before he left. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He said and Sam raised an eyebrow.
"Scratch that just…don't give Dad a reason to kick my ass for leaving you." He said.
"Yes mom." Sam said rolling his eyes.
"Shutup Bitch."
"Jerk" Sam replied.
"See you later." Dean said walking out the room and Sam raised a hand in goodbye. Listening carefully and hearing the front door close Sam finally let out a whimper and buried his head in his pillow. His head was killing him. It had never been this bad before.
His stomach lurched and a familiar feeling raced up his throat as spit began to pool in his mouth. Oh shit…
Sam leapt from the bed and dashed to the bathroom, dropping to his knees just in time as vomit rushed up his throat in a burning wave and he expelled the contents of his stomach. His eyes tearing, head pounding and neck aching he coughed and dry-heaved.
Spitting into the toilet he gripped the side of the sink for support as he tried to stay upright, his stomach still rebelling even though it was now empty.
Part of him had wanted to make Dean stay with him but he knew his brother needed to go out, it wasn't fair the way Dad had made Dean his right-hand man, calling on him for everything.
Coughing again harshly, tears rolled down his flushed cheeks and he closed his eyes against the pain.
A wave of dizziness washed over him and he was really starting to regret telling Dean to go…
A/N Yay for Sick!Sam aanyway tell me what you thought! All reviews appreciated.