Reader comes down with the flu, and goes to Bobby's for help... Requested by an awesome person who wishes to remain anonymous. Please keep in mind, this is my first attempt with writing from a reader's POV, so i apologize if you hate. 

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You had read almost every fanfiction ever made about Supernatural, especially the ones involving Bobby and the Winchesters. You almost felt like you knew them, better than you knew your own friends. So it wasn't surprising that you were on an expedition to find the elusive Singer's Auto Yard in Sioux Falls.

It was even less surprising that when you left, you ignored the tattle tale signs that you were about to get sick with the flu. Everyone knows that driving for long hours while feeling crummy, increases your symptoms exponentially. A simple headache becomes a migraine, a simple stomachache becomes full blown nausea, and a minor fever becomes a major one.

That's where you are right now, about an hour outside of Sioux Falls, and feeling like death warmed over. When you had left, early that morning, you had felt a minor headache and fever coming on, and an annoyingly persistent tickle in the back of your throat. You figured it was just allergies, since it was the end of the summer and many people were being struck down by killer allergies... Even though, you'd never had allergies a day in your life, but hey, no one needed to know that.

You pull over to the side of the highway, closing your eyes against the sudden onset of dizziness.

"Son of a bitch." You mumble, shaking your head briefly, knowing you had to be close to Bobby's Auto Yard.

You sigh in relief when the dizziness abates enough to be able to see straight. You get back onto the road carefully, unaware that there is a Chevy Impala '67 on the road right behind you.

You drive for another hour, ignoring the increasing dizziness and pounding in your head, hoping to reach your destination before you lose it. You groan softly, feeling the rawness in your throat, every time you swallow, knowing that you are going to be miserable later... if the aggressive churning in your stomach is any clue at all.

You look up in surprise, to see the Singer's Auto Yard sign, and immediately turn off onto the driveway. You look up at your rearview mirror, hearing the low rumble of another car behind you.

"An impala?! It can't be." You gasp loudly, causing yourself to start coughing and swerve dangerously towards a nearby fence.

The driver of the impala honked his horn, trying to warn you of your impending crash, but you were too busy coughing up a lung to hit the brakes. You plow into the fence, hitting your head hard on the steering wheel.

The driver of the impala pulled over, climbing out of his car quickly. He ran over to your car, pulling your door open rapidly.

"Are you alright?" He asked urgently, taking in your pale demeanor and the blood dripping down your face.

You look up at him, thinking you had to be hallucinating when you saw that it was none other than Dean Winchester himself. You nod numbly, not really sure what he had said to you.

"Can you hear me?" He asked calmly, reaching around your waist to unbuckle your seatbelt. "I'm going to move you out of the car, don't fight me." He instructed softly, as he lifted you from you seat gingerly.

You cough harshly, at the change in the air around you. You wheeze, as you look around in confusion. You can't recognize where you are, for the life of you.

"Is he/she alright?" The passenger of the impala called, climbing out of the impala quickly.

"He/She is really banged up, and appears to be running a high fever." Dean called back, looking down at you in concern.

You flinch, as his yell reverberates through your head, making your pounding headache even worse.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your head." Dean said, in a softer voice. He reached down, lightly examining your injuries from the car crash.

"It...its... ok...ay..." You stammer hoarsely, closing your eyes as you are suddenly hit with vertigo.

"I think we should get him/her to Bobby... I'm concerned that the injuries may be adding him/her illness." The other male said simply, worried about your condition that appeared to be deteriorating.

You sway back and forth slightly, clutching your head in your hands as dizziness overtakes you. You curl up in the fetal position, at Dean's feet, wincing as you try to hide your eyes from the bright sunlight.

"Easy, easy... We'll get you inside, and get Bobby to help you." Dean said softly, scooping you up off the ground and walking towards the house.

You curl into Dean's chest, whimpering softly as the movements mess with your already queasy stomach.

"Put me down..." you plead quickly, feeling the bile climbing up your throat.

Dean nodded quickly, putting you down on the ground gently.

"What's wrong?" he asked, in concern, taking in your harder breathing.

"Gonna be sick." You mumble, lurching forward onto your hands and knees as your back arched painfully. As your back arches, fluid and half-digested food poured from your mouth to the ground.

"Whoa... hey, you're okay... Breathe through it..." Dean said strongly, rubbing your back gingerly as he spoke. "Sammy, run ahead and get Bobby." He instructed, feeling your back arch again.

Sam nodded, running towards the house and returned with the older hunter in tow.

You look up at the hunters briefly, before lurching forward again, spewing more of your stomach contents on the ground.

"Easy kid..." Dean said quickly, grabbing your shoulders as you lurched. He didn't want you face planting into the mess you had just made.

"What happened?! Who is this?! Why is he/she so sick?!" Bobby asked firmly, taking in the scene before him.

"He/She hit the fence, appeared injured, so I moved him/her from the car, and we were on our way inside to you when this happened." Dean explained, flinching as he felt your back arch again. "Just breathe... the nausea will pass soon." He said to you, looking up at Bobby worriedly.

You groan, gagging unsuccessfully, bringing up nothing. You lean into Dean, feeling exhausted and like you were going to pass out.

"Get him/her inside, right now." Bobby instructed quickly, seeing you were about to pass out.

Dean and Sam nodded, lifting your arms over their shoulders and carried you carefully inside.

Your head dropped against Sam's shoulder in exhaustion, panting softly before coughing harshly repeatedly, like you couldn't breathe very well.

Sam and Dean put you down on the couch gingerly, not wanting to upset your stomach if at all possible.

"Here, take this Tylenol, Robitussin, and Pepto. They should help you feel a bit better." Bobby said, offering you the meds and a glass of water.

You take the meds slowly, grimacing at the flavor of the Robitussin mixed with the flavor of the Pepto. "Is it supposed to taste awful?" You ask in a weak whisper.

"Yeah, but it should help." Sam said with a chuckle. He grabbed a blanket, wrapping it around you gently.

"Get some rest, kid." Bobby said gruffly, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Want me to get you a bucket?" Dean asked cautiously, trying to assess your condition.

You shook your head, tiredly, dozing off momentarily before jerking awake again.

"You're okay, go ahead and sleep." Sam said gently, looking over at you in concern.

"Promise you'll be here when I wake up?" You whisper softly, wheezing softly.

Sam nodded his promise, getting up from his seat and moving over to sit beside you. He grabbed a pillow, put it on his lap, and pulled you down to rest your head on his lap. "Sleep, I'm not going anywhere." He promised, rubbing your back lightly as you fall asleep.

Dean walked back into the room, surprised to see you resting on Sam's lap. "What did I miss?" he asked in bewilderment.

"He/She woke up, almost as soon as he/she fell asleep. Afraid that we'd be gone the next time." Sam explained with a shrug. He frowned, looking down at you, hearing your stomach gurgle loudly. "You may need to bring a bucket... Like right now." He said tensely.

Dean nodded, disappearing from the room quickly, before returning with the bucket. "Here, is he/she going to puke again?" he asked curiously.

Sam barely had a chance to nod, before you shoot upright and grab the bucket from Dean.

"Breathe kid... Try not to throw up the meds." Bobby said suddenly, causing you to stiffen and nod.

"I can't." You grind out, through clenched teeth as a gag escapes your mouth.

"Yes, you can. Just breathe in your nose, and slowly out of your mouth." Bobby instructed gently, not wanting to see you get sick again, if it could be helped.

You nod slowly, breathing in your nose and out your mouth, your eyes widening in surprise as your stomach calmed down. "How did you?" you asked, with an exhausted yawn.

"It's a trick I learned as a young adult, it forces oxygen into your body, and causes your body to relax a bit. It's a good way to calm anxiety, as well." Bobby explained with a chuckle. "Get some sleep, you'll feel better before too long." He added.

You nod tiredly, relieved to be able to close your eyes once again. You fall asleep almost immediately, snuggling into the pillow on Sam's lap.

"How did you know that would work?" Sam and Dean asked at the same time.

"Because, I taught you boys that when you were younger." Bobby said, with a chuckle. "Let him/her sleep as long as needed, those meds should ensure the fever is gone by the time he/she wakes up." He added simply.

Sam and Dean both nodded, knowing the older hunter was right.

Sam dozed off, after about an hour, followed by Dean, minutes later.

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You woke up the next morning, with only a sore throat and a lot of explaining to do. After telling the whole story, the hunters shook their heads, and got to work fixing your car. About a week later, it was fixed, and you were extended the courtesy of always being welcome anywhere the hunters called home.

I hope you enjoyed this little one-shot. As always: please comment, vote, and request away!