Supernatural Sickfic Oneshots

Stomach Flu Jack

Requested by HiddenScreamer. SPOILERS!!!!! If you haven't seen through the first couple of episodes of season 13, do not read! Enjoy!
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Jack sat in his room, staring at his stabbed shirt from weeks before. A lot had changed in such a short time, which was a good thing. He was glad not to be alone, and that Dean no longer hated him.

He laid down on his side, facing away from the shirt, and closed his eyes. He had a slight pounding behind his eyes, and it wasn't due to angel radio, so he figured a nap would help.

Dean and Sam were in the living room, one researching and the other was cleaning his weapons.

"Have you seen Jack since breakfast?" Dean asked thoughtfully, thinking about the whole Jack  stabbing himself over and over issue.

Sam shook his head. "He kept pinching the bridge of his nose at breakfast, So he may be sleeping off a headache." he said nonchalantly, turning his laptop around to show Jack doing just that on a nanny cam.

"Really?" Dean demanded, wondering where else Sam had cameras set up.

Sam laughed, knowing Dean would be paranoid now. "I set that up, when we were first learning about his powers." he explained.

"Oh okay, so you aren't watching everyone?" Dean asked teasingly.

"No, that's weird." Sam said, shaking his head. He looked down at the laptop to see Jack was tossing and turning. "He appears to be sleeping and having nightmares." he said, drawing Dean's attention to the laptop screen.

"I thought he didn't sleep..." Dean said thoughtfully.

"He doesn't, but he is. Think something is wrong?" Sam asked in concern, watching as Jack's tossing and turning got more aggressive.

Jack shot upright, breathing hard, as he looked around the room. He shook his head, before getting up, and leaving his room to join Sam and Dean in the living room. He looked pale and tired, with bags under his eyes, making him look worse for wear.

"You okay, Jack?" Sam asked, worried for the younger man who looked as awful as he truly felt.

"I am fine, Sam," Jack said, tiredly smiling at the younger of the two older hunters.

Sam nodded, not really convinced, but he wasn't going to argue about it. He watched as Jack sank heavily down into a chair, looking really upset.

"You seem upset," Dean observed, picking up on what Sam had, much to Sam's relief.

"I was thinking about my mom." Jack admitted softly, earning understanding from Sam and Dean automatically. "I wish I could have known her." he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"She loved you so much, Jack." Sam said firmly, wishing he had known Kelly better, so he could offer better consolations to her son.

"So you say, and so does she." Jack said, his voice dejected and depressed.
Dean got up and knelt in front of Jack, so he was at eye level, before speaking.

"She made the ultimate sacrifice for you. Herself. She loved you with every fiber of her being, if she could have been here to raise and guide you, she would have been." he said simply, looking Jack in the eye so he knew the oldest hunter was dead serious.

Jack nodded in relief, wiping away the tears that fell unbidden, with an aggressive swipe of the back of his right hand.

Dean stood back up and returned to his seat, continuing to clean his weapons as if he had never stopped.

Jack sat with them quietly for a time before getting up and leaving at a brisk walk. He disappeared down the hall, into the nearest bathroom as soon as he felt the first warning of discomfort in his stomach and bowels. He had never felt anything like it before, but it felt bad, so he retreated in case something happened.

He walked over to the sink, as his stomach started flipping and churning rapidly. He stared at his reflection, as he started basically drooling from all the extra saliva pooling in his mouth. He thought for a second, before swallowing the excess saliva and gagging for the very first time.

His eyes widened in terror, as a harder gag ripped from his lips, and the excess saliva spilled from his lips into the sink. Another gag caused more liquid, to burn his throat, as it rushed up to  shoot from his lips aggressively, filling the sink with that one burst.

He coughed hard a few times, trying to clear the horrible taste out of his mouth, without gagging again. He turned away from his mess, as his bowels started to gurgle and grumble and hurt, clueing him into the fact that something was about to happen. He made a guess, and bolted to the toilet, dropped his pants, and sat down just in time to have his bowels evacuate loudly.

He groaned softly, bewildered by what was going on with his body, as his body emptied repeatedly, making his stomach feel disgusting again. He had a feeling this wasn't going to end well, and he was right, as his body emptied again, he lurched forward vomiting on the ground in front of him.

He stared at the vomit in shock, adding to it, each time his bowels emptied, which happened twice more. He cleaned himself and the bathroom up, to the best of his ability, vomiting in the sink again as he was cleaning the sink. And puking on the floor again, as he cleaned the floor, but he got it all cleaned up.

He retreated to his room, too weak to care as he curled up on his bed, wrapping his arms around his upset and churning stomach.

Sam looked up at the laptop thoughtfully, noticing how Jack was behaving but kept it to himself. "Need anything, I'm taking a break?" He asked Dean.

Dean waved him off, seemingly in the zone of cleaning.

Sam walked down the hall to the bathroom, freezing when he is hit with the smell of vomit and diarrhea. He walks back to the living room, a man on a mission.

"Dean, are you sick? Like vomiting and diarrhea. Be 100% honest, because someone is sick." He said bluntly.
Dean looked up and shook his head, as Jack walked into the living room, drenched in sweat with a hand on his stomach.

"Is this what death feels like?" Jack asked miserably, as vomit suddenly spilled from his lips.

Sam grabbed a bin, handed it to Jack, and sat the kid down, Jack continued vomiting.

"Found your culprit." Dean joked, rubbing Jack's back lightly, until he stopped wringing his stomach out. "You okay there?" He asked.

Jack nodded weakly, putting the bin down beside the chair, before jumping up and running down the hall. He returned twenty minutes later, only to vomit some more, before falling silent in the chair finally.

"Looks like you're sick, kid. Come lay on the couch, so we can keep an eye on you." Dean said firmly, guiding Jack over to their new couch.
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Jack curled up on the couch, watching Sam and Dean silently, until nodding off for a time, only getting sick a couple more times. He was fine the next day, but Dean wasn't.

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