Author's Note: I recently finished a sick Dean story, and following on from numerous requests, I am now delivering a sick Sam. Hope you all enjoy !!!

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or the characters …

Chapter 1

Sam was researching in the library when it hit him.

Without pity.

Without warning.

A wave of intense nausea washed across his whole body. He couldn't be sick here, he thought. No, not in the quiet surrounds of the local library. He swallowed convulsively as he gathered his laptop and notes, pushing the collection of library books into a neat pile at the side of the desk.

He stood up gingerly, hoping that the nausea would pass, or at least abate until he was in a place affording him a greater measure of privacy. Taking deep breaths, he slowly, tentatively, made his way to the exit, relishing the fresh air and gentle breeze once he was outside.

He sent up a silent pray, thanking God, that he had made a dignified exit from the library. Glancing at his watch, he noticed that he still had almost an hour until he was due to meet Dean.

Easing down onto the wooden bench in the garden area bounding the library building, Sam continued to concentrate on his deep even breathing. His stomach was churning and a fine film of sweat was breaking out on his forehead.

Suddenly he lost his fight, and a surge of intense nausea hit him. The bile quickly rose in his throat, and he barely had time to duck behind a shrub before the vomit was violently expelled from his mouth. Fortunately, for all of its intensity, the bout of vomiting ended almost as suddenly as it began.

Making a quick attempt to kick some leaves over the mess on the ground, Sam moved away, not wanting the vile smell to insight another bout of sickness.

He moved to sit on another wooden bench, this one far enough away that he could almost ignore the fact that he'd been sick. Almost. He still had that hideous after taste in his mouth. The distinctive flavour that sticks to your tongue to remind you of what has passed. Like he needed a reminder.

Grabbing his bottle of water from his bag, he took a sip, swirling it around his mouth before discretely spitting behind the seat. He repeated the process, trying to rid his mouth of the awful taste. He then took a small mouthful of water, and swallowed slowly. The nausea seemed to have passed, but he wasn't confident enough to take any chances. Hopefully, if he took just the small sip of water it would stay down.

Reaching for his phone, he called Dean. Maybe, he'd be able to come and pick him up early. He really didn't relish the thought of walking the half dozen or so blocks back to their cheap motel.

Dean picked up on the third ring. "Yeah" he answered, in his usual distracted manner when they weren't in the middle of a hunt.

"Hey Dean" he replied. "I'm finished here. Any chance of picking me up early?"

"Yeah, I'll swing by in five." Dean replied before disconnecting the call.


Sam was waiting for Dean in front of the library when he pulled up a few minutes later. After a few consecutive hunts, they were both weary and tired. They'd pulled into town yesterday evening, stopping at the cheap hotel at the edge of town. As they were here, and needed a couple of days to restock and rest, they thought they might as well scope the town out, see if there were any potential gigs for them in the area. They'd both drawn a blank. It appeared, there really was 'nothing' happening in this dead end town.

Dean wasn't really upset that they hadn't lined up their next gig. He'd checked out the local bar, just a block from the hotel, and it looked promising for a little 'relaxation' later in the evening.

Dean pulled into the cheap motel, parking the Impala directly in front of their room. Whilst Sam had been at the library, he'd purchased the necessary supplies to restock their first aid kit, and picked up a few chocolate bars and a packet of chips. Grabbing his purchases, he followed Sam into the dingy room. Tossing his purchases on the table, he stood in the middle of the room and looked around. He really didn't want to spend any more time than necessary confined in this room. He noticed that Sam had laid his lanky form out on his bed, folding his arms behind his head in a relaxed pose.

"Hey Sam, want to go get some grub?" he asked

"Nah, I might grab a couple extra hours sleep" Sam replied, stretching comfortably on the narrow bed.

"Yeah, well I'm starving. Want me to bring you anything back?"

"I'll wait for dinner …. you know that's only a couple of hours away, don't you?" Sam answered.

"Yeah, well I'm hungry now" Dean replied petulantly. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, and we'll go grab some dinner and a few beers."

Dean quickly made his exit, preventing any further conversation with Sam. He was more than happy to have a couple of hours to go chat up the waitress he'd met at the café when they'd had breakfast this morning. Much easier to chat up a hot babe without Sam towing along.

Sam smiled to himself. He knew exactly what was on Dean's agenda. His brother had a one track mind, and he'd seen how the waitress from this morning and his brother had looked at each other. Yeah, he knew exactly what sort of plans Dean was hoping for this afternoon. He was happy though to have a couple of hours to himself. His stomach still felt slightly unsettled, and a couple of hours rest should cure him.

Sam closed his eyes and made himself comfortable on the surprisingly soft bed. He was still feeling weary and a little bruised after the last couple of intense hunts, and his body welcomed the additional rest. It didn't take long for Sam to settle into a light slumber.


The shrill ring of his phone woke Sam from a deep sleep. Glancing out the window, he noticed that the sky was darkening – it was dusk already. Groggily rising from the bed, he grabbed his mobile, to see Dean's name displayed on caller ID.

"Yeah" he answered, still half asleep.

"Hey Sammy, did I wake you?" Dean asked in a suspiciously chirpy voice.

Sam knew that Dean had "got lucky" or was about to. There was no other reason that Dean would sound so happy in this dead end town.

Not wanting to put a dampener on Dean's night, Sam pre-empted Dean's request. "Hey Dean, I'm still really tired. Do you mind going out tonight without me?"

"Yeah okay. I'll see you later tonight, or maybe, you know, tomorrow morning..." The last part said with a soft smirk. Sam could hear feminine giggles in the background.

"Yeah Dean. Have a good one." Sam replied, letting Dean know that he was fully aware of what he was up to.

After ending the call, Sam went back to the bed, grabbing the TV remote on his way. He was happy to have a couple of hours to himself. Maybe he'd watch TV or catch up on checking his emails. Stretching out again, Sam switched on the TV and lost himself in some mindless TV program.

After an hour or so of TV, he was feeling restless. It should be time for him to be thinking about grabbing some dinner, but he wasn't really hungry. He still felt slightly queasy, and didn't want to risk his still fragile feeling stomach with any food. Particularly not the type of fast food he was likely to find around here. Last night Dean had salivated with gusto over a greasy burger, whilst, unable to find anything that looked appetising, he'd settled for a pre-made chicken and salad sandwich.

Yeah, he thought, probably better to skip dinner.

He decided to take a long hot shower. With Dean not here, he wouldn't have to listen to his bitching about using all the hot water. Strolling into the bathroom, he was disappointed to see the dingy excuse for a bathroom with the tiny shower cubicle. Maybe a short shower, he thought, in anticipation of folding his long frame into such a confined space.

The water was hot and the shower and steam was what he needed after the day he'd had. He stood under the invigorating water, letting it cascade over his back, easing the aches from his tired muscles. After more than few minutes in the hot shower, Sam found that the heat was making him feel dizzy and a little woozy. Quickly shutting off the water, he stepped out of the shower, having to quickly grab at the towel rail to starve off another sudden wave of dizziness.

He really wasn't feeling too great. His stomach was empty after his earlier bout of nausea, and he knew this accounted for his current feeling of light headiness. He still didn't feel ready to tempt his fragile feeling stomach with some food, even plain food, but he knew he should probably try to drink something.

After quickly drying himself and pulling on a clean pair of sweats and t-shirt, he filled a glass of water and carried it to the table. It was still early; he'd work on his laptop for a while before going back to bed.

Sam sipped the water as he worked. After the first few tentative sips, he realised his thirst and gulped down the remainder of the water. It took only a few moments for him to realise his mistake. The bile rose quickly in his throat. Grasping his mouth with his hand, he made a mad dash back to the bathroom. Sinking to his knees in front of the toilet, he lost what little there was in his stomach in a violent assault. When there was nothing left to come up, he dry heaved repeatedly whilst silently willing his body to recognise the futility of the act.

Exhausted, the heaving finally came to an end and he slumped against the wall next to the toilet. He felt drained of all energy, and the effort to move from his resting place was just too great. He closed his eyes, deciding to rest for just a few minutes.


Sam slowly came awake some time later, the damp from the bathroom tiles seeping into his bones making his achingly cold. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself. It took him a few moments to recognise where he was, and a few more to realise that he had fallen asleep where he had slumped, exhausted next to the toilet.

Disgusting. He hadn't even flushed.

He stood slowly, and reached to flush the toilet, making the mistake of looking down.

He gagged.

He swallowed.

He was helpless to stop the vomit that rose again in his throat. Almost detachedly, he again kneeled on the floor as his stomach revolted against its contents. A lone tear slid from the corner of his eye as he struggled against the hopelessness of the situation.

He continued to heave for what felt like an eternity, until the acid bile was burning a path along the back of his throat. He clamped his hand against his stomach, holding the straining muscles tightly.

When his ordeal was finally over, silent tears were running unheeded down his face. He swiped them away with the back of his hand.

Struggling to stand, he determinedly cleaned up all evidence of his sickness. Stripping off his clothes and throwing them into the corner of the bathroom, he turned on the shower, and stood under the warm water. Unwilling to have a repeat performance of his earlier dizziness after a long shower, he got out as soon as he felt clean. Drying himself briskly, he went into the bedroom and pulled on a clean pair of boxers.

He sat on the edge of the bed, dropping his tired head into his hands. He still felt like crap.

Getting unsteadily to his feet, he made his way over to the small kitchenette tucked into the far end of the room.

He felt dizzy.

Detached from his body.

His vision blurred.

He blinked in an effort to focus.

Swaying, he wondered if Dean would be coming back tonight.