Supernatural Sickfic Oneshots

Smiting Sickness...?

This is a continuation of what happened the first night after Dean was hit by smiting sickness in season 11. So some spoilers...

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Dean watched Sam walk into their motel room, from the front seat of the impala. He didn't really feel like moving just yet, after Lucifer went all nuts and beat the tar out of himself, Sam, and Cas. He had a feeling something was wrong again, but he was too tired to care. Plus he had a sneaking suspicion, the so called "smiting sickness" may not be done with him.

He had been lucky and hid the nauseous feeling he got when Lucifer was beating on Sammy or himself, but he had almost lost it in the car on their way to the motel. Thankfully the comforting hum of the impala had managed to settle his stomach a good deal. That was until they stopped driving, and his stomach started churning again.

Sam stuck his head out of their room, wondering what was taking Dean so long. What he was greeted with, was his brother leaning his head weakly against the steering wheel and looking sick. He sighed softly, walking outside and knocking on Dean's window. He flinched when he saw the older Winchester jump, obviously not expecting an interruption.

"Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you. You good?" Sam asked apologetically. He knew Dean could hear him through the rolled up window, so he didn't feel the need to yell or open the door.

"Yeah yeah, just peachy." Dean grumbled, opening the door and narrowly missing Sam's leg with the door. Sam nodded slowly, stepping out the way quickly so as not to get hit. He walked back inside, but snuck a peek at his brother before disappearing inside.

Dean limped heavily, one hand pressed firmly on his hip/ back like a pregnant woman would in labor. He also had the other hand pressed against his stomach, making it appear that he had an upset stomach. His face was pale, and he swallowed hard a few times.

Sam sighed, knowing something was up with Dean, but he had no idea what or who was the cause. He bit his lip as he thought about if he should try to help his older brother or not, but after a moment gave in and decided to help. "Come on, let's get you inside. You look like crap, Dean." he offered, as a slight explanation. 

Dean huffed in response, coughing softly under his breath. "I'm fine, Sammy." He said softly, no real oomph behind his words. Sam could tell by the tone in his brother's tired voice, that Dean felt way worse than he let on. Or would let on anytime soon. Sam sighed softly and stepped back, releasing his hold on Dean's arm. 

Dean staggered slightly, but remained upright as he walked into their room. He sank down on the end of his bed, the one furthest from the bathroom but closest to the front door. He had to get up and set up the customary salt lines and other proofings for the room, but as it was he was just too tired to move. He turned and looked at his pillow, wanting to sleep, but his churning stomach said sleep would be less likely to happen anytime soon. 

Sam watched Dean thoughtfully for a moment, before he finally started to lay the salt lines and draw the usual enochian symbols of warding up. He was slightly surprised that Dean had pulled into a motel, instead of heading straight to the bunker. Upon further inspection though, he understood what had happened. He was almost tempted to call Cas in order to find out what had happened earlier, but had a feeling he wouldn't get anywhere. 

Dean looked up when he heard Sam shuffling around the room, smirking tiredly. "I can hear you thinking too loudly. Out with it." he said firmly, trying not to appear as worn down as he felt.

"What happened? You said to call you, before going into hell... but then you didn't answer." Sam said, finishing up the proofing. Dean scrubbed a hand over his face in exasperation. There was no way in hell, he was telling Sammy about the kissing of Amara or anything like that. However he did think that maybe it would be smart to mention the smiting sickness or whatever Cas called it. 

"Um... I was busy... Plus smiting sickness may have been involved. " Dean said with a nonchalant shrug. He could hear his stomach gurgling and tensing up, which he knew would soon spell his doom again. 

"Smiting sickness? What the hell is the that?" Sam demanded, turning to look at his brother incredulously. He immediately noticed that Dean's face was paler than earlier and taking on a slightly green tint. He moved quickly, finding a garbage can with a bag in it, and offered it to Dean. Dean shook his head no, pushing the trash can away from him slightly.  

"I'm okay, Sam. Honestly. And Cas said that, its the result of the angels trying to smite Amara. It makes me feel sick, but i'm okay now." Dean said, swallowing hard a feel times. The memory of earlier on the side of the road, was making his vision swim and bile rise up the back of his throat. 

Sam snorted in response, walking over to the little table in their room. He pulled out the laptop and sat down, immediately opening the laptop and getting to work on researching the area they were in. Dean watched Sam quietly, pressing his hand against his stomach harder than was necessary. The churning wasn't easing and now there were sharp jolts of pain to boot. He wasn't happy with the fact that he was still being affected by the smiting sickness, and in the back of his mind, he wondered if he had something else wrong. 

Dean got up after a few minutes, walking slowly and gingerly to the bathroom area. He stopped in front of the sink, turned the water on, and splashed some water on his face in the hopes that it would somehow make his stomach hurt less. He hissed softly in discomfort, as his stomach gurgled in agitation. He gripped the sides of the sink tightly, trying to stay upright as his vision swam and he gagged softly. 

Sam had been absently typing on the laptop, so he could watch Dean without it being obvious. He flinched seeing Dean brace his hands on either side of the sink, jumping to his feet when he heard his big brother gag. He had known this was going to happen, but he had to wait for Dean to admit defeat and/ or ask for help. 

Dean's stomach pains were getting sharper, causing him to groan and wrap one of his arms around his stomach. His other arm was shaking so hard, there was no way he would be able to stay on his feet much longer. Just as he felt like he was going to fall, he felt Sam's strong hands guiding him down to the floor beside the toilet. He didn't have time to thank his little brother for looking out for him or saving his butt there, as he dove forward. His stomach gave up, forcing anything else he had in it up and out. 

Sam rubbed gentle circles on Dean's back, as his brother heaved his guts up. Once Dean stopped, Sam grabbed a washcloth, wet it down, and put it around his brother's neck. Dean sighed softly in relief, looking at Sam to speak. As soon as he tried to say thanks, his stomach twisted and he started heaving again. 

Sam sighed softly, rubbing circles again on Dean's back. "Easy easy, its okay. Just breathe, man." He said after a little while. Dean had barely stopped to breathe, but hearing his brother's words reminded him to do so. As he took a deep breath, his stomach started to calm down a bit and his vision stopped swimming. 

Dean leaned back against the wall nearby, catching his breath and looking at Sam thoughtfully. "Were you going to say yes?" he asked hoarsely. Sam looked at Dean, before getting up and flushing the toilet for his brother. He found an unopened plastic cup on the counter after a moment of searching, and filled it with cold water. He offered the glass to Dean, hoping that the eldest Winchester had the common sense not to chug it. 

Dean sipped on the water slowly, relieved that his stomach stayed where it was supposed to. HE looked at Sam expectantly, dreading the silence as he waited for Sammy's answer.

"No, Dean. I was willing to watch you die, and to die myself. He said if i said no, that's what i had to be prepared to do." Sam explained softly, hoping his brother wouldn't get mad. 

Dean smiled proudly, getting up from the floor slowly moving closer to Sam. "Good choice, Sam." he said simply, resting his hand on the taller man's shoulders. "I'm gonna get some sleep... you should too. We both took quite a beating in hell today." he said with a tired smile. 

Sam nodded his agreement, moving to his bed and laying down, as he watched his brother closely for any other signs of distress. Dean climbed into his own bed, closing his eyes quickly. 

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Both boys were quickly asleep, both hoping that there would be no more surprises for them that night. Dean's mind contemplating everything involving Amara and what that would mean for them. Sam's mind was reflecting on everything Lucifer had shown him, and if he was actually going to have to watch Dean die.