Stomach Viruses Go to Sam
Panda13216Sam gritted his teeth in pain and pushed against the wall. He was trying to be quiet, the walls were thin and you could hear tapping on the other side. The shower was running creating a thin strip of steam on the mirror. The water was also creating water droplets on the wall and making the floor slick. That was most likely why Sam was on the floor, or it was the fact it felt as if someone was trying to rip out his intestines.
He felt the vomit rising in his throat, so he jerked over to the toilet. Luckily nothing came out this time. Last time it spewed out all over the bathroom mat, turning the crimson color into a mixture that looked like seven day old soup.
The bathroom smelled like last month's macaroni, and the tile had different colored specks around the room. The bathroom was only about the size of a small closet, leaving only room for the shower, toilet, sink and boy.
Sam twisted his face trying to stop the puke from coming out. He pressed his head against the wall, wishing he could block out all of this. He squinted and let out a breath of relief. It was gone for now.
Where was Dean when you needed him? He had gone hunting with John, a two day trip, and they left Sam in no company. Dean had protested, but John had insisted. They were only about twenty to thirty miles away; this was only because of Dean's persistence.
They had left the eleven year old with nothing but his company. Sam rolled his head up to the ceiling trying to imagine something that could make him feel better. Dean. It wasn't working, there was nothing that smelt like him, felt like him, or sounded like him. Sam sighed. That was a mistake on his part.
He instantly vomited, covering himself in puke. From his chest down it was yellow, red, and green. His eyes flickered to the bathtub. He pulled himself up on the rim, letting his legs slide into the rays of water. He was soon soaked and on the floor, but that's better than being covered in your own throw up.
"Ow…" Sam moaned and pulled his hands up to his hair. He let his fingers run through it, pulling out brown strands.
He glanced up at the small clock in the room. It was hard to read, his vision was going blurry. This was because he was trying to release what he didn't have in him. The clock read ten forty-three.
Sam's spirits lifted. Dean would call in around ten minutes. Yet, the phone was on the bed. He pulled himself to his feet and instantly regretted it. He turned to the sink, where he began to let out watery vomit. After that he dry-heaved for a while.
It was ten fifty six when Sam had mustered the strength to get to the bed, grab the phone, and get back into the bathroom before he puked again. He held the phone in a towel, so it wouldn't get messy.
The phone rang while Sam was vomiting. He had to wipe off his mouth and click the answer button in all of five rings. He got it done in two, but it felt more like fifty.
"Hey Sammy! How's it going?" Deans had a rough tired voice, but it was full of enthusiasm for his brother.
Sam didn't answer. He could feel the bile rising in his throat. It wasn't the best idea to open his mouth.
"Sammy?!" The voice coming from the phone had become worried and scratchy.
"M' h're." Sam managed to say before be puked. Dean said something, but Sam wasn't listening.
"You okay?!" Dean asked. He was pushing the phone closer to his ear; you could tell because you could hear his heavy breathing.
"Ya." Sam pushed it out before he began to dry-heave. Dean was letting out a long sigh.
"No you're not Sammy. I can hear you, don't hide it." Dean gave out a long moan. "How bad is it, just first time?"
Sam glanced around the vomit splattered room. "F'rst. Not ba'." He grumbled.
"Alright. We'll come home early tomorrow. Bye Sammy." Dean hung up early enough to let Sam puke again.
Sam felt as if everything was revolving. The room was getting darker, it was eleven twenty. He leaned back, lying on his side. He felt heavier, and in minutes he was asleep.
He woke up in a puddle of his own puke. His hair was drenched in soggy, hot, vomit. His shirt was soaked. He fluttered his eyes, looking around. It was ten o'clock. He had slept around eleven hours, and puked while he was doing it.
He glanced out the window at the top of the room. There was a black Impala parked outside. Sam let his shoulders sag and he sat up. The triggered puke and he had to flush the toilet once more.
Dean walked into the room carrying a small bottle of blue Gatorade. He walked into the bathroom where the shower was still running. He sighed as he went to a vomit covered Sam.
"You told me it wasn't bad." Dean growled as he began to wipe off the puke.
"It wasn't." Sam told him before he let watery vomit drip down his chin.
"Sure." Dean grumbled as he helped the eleven year old sit up.
"Bu-" Sam began but Dean pinched his leg causing him to stop.
"Don't say anything. You'll just puke on me again." Dean brushed the white bile off his leg.
Sam was quiet and allowed Dean to wet a towel and sponge him down. He was wet but otherwise vomit free. Sam's hair still looked like a knotted mess, but if you looked neck down he looked fine.
Sam let Dean carry him into the bedroom and set him on the bed. Dean pressed a hand against Sam's head, checking his temperature. It felt okay.
"Lucky for you we left yesterday, you would've been sick for a while then." Dean sat down next to Sam, who was completely worn out. Sam rolled over, pressing a hand on Deans' knee.
After that Sam pulled himself up, stopping when he managed to worm onto Deans leg. He then stretched out a hand and gripped Dean's amulet. Dean put a hand on Sam's back, stroking the skinny kid's spine. Sam relaxed his breathing slowing. Dean smiled not noticing Sam's vomit filled hair soaking his T-shirt. Dean turned his green eyes to John, who had just walked into the room.
"You two okay? You know Dean he's messing up your T-shirt." John glanced to Sam's speckled yellow hair.
"Yeah. It's okay, he's asleep." Dean began to finger Sam's spine, causing a small stir in the kids' leg.
"Alright then." John turned and went into the bathroom, probably to clean it.
Dean smiled and pushed his head against the back-board of the bed. This was basically how Dean wished he could spend every day.
A.N Hey! Thanks for reading! Lots of you liked my story Shot and Alone, so I thought 'Hey why not?' Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are always loved!
-Panda
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of its contents.