This awesome request was requested by haliadelatorre. I hope you enjoy this, as I am always happy to write any and all requests! 

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Sam walked into the motel room completely drenched, followed by an equally drenched and muddy Dean.

"Hey Sam, hey Dean. Did you gank the ghost, or did it try to gank you?" You teased playfully, looking at Sam, who was unusally pale, in concern.

"Haha, Y/N. We ended up in the river, again, and yes, we ganked the sucker." Dean said tiredly, looking at Sam briefly.

"Sam, you okay?" You ask uncertainly.

Sam looks at you thoughtfully, offering a weak smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm fine, just cold and wet." He lied, adding a pained shrug to appear fine.

You look at Dean, who was still watching Sam, as well. You could see the concern in the older Winchester's eyes.

"You got thrown around a lot; you sure you're good?" Dean asked, earning an annoyed glare from Sam.

"I said, I'm fine." Sam growled, turning around and stomping back out of the motel room.

You jump, as the door bangs shut loudly, before turning to look at Dean. "What did you do now?" you demand, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Cool it, Y/N. I didn't do anything, I swear." Dean said, holding his hands up in a surrendering motion. "I don't think he was feeling well, and that ghost was really wailing on him today." He added.

You sigh softly, looking at the door worriedly. "Go get cleaned up, before you leave mud everywhere." You say firmly.

"Alright, alright. I'm going." Dean said quickly, retreating to the bathroom with a loud bang.

"Don't use all the hot water!" You yell after him, earning a quick 'ok' through the door.

You grab a towel, starting to clean up the mud and water puddles on the ground. You keep looking back at the front door, watching for Sam to return.

Sam bolted into the room out of nowhere, rushing to the bathroom, threw the door open, and shut the bathroom door quickly.

"Dude!" Dean yelled from the shower, as Sam doubled over the open toilet and gagged hard. "Crap! Y/N!" Dean yelled, hearing Sam over his shower.

You jump to your feet, before running into the bathroom. "What's wrong?" you ask, since your hand was shielding your eyes, as you really didn't need another image of Dean naked, burned into your memory.

"Sam's sick." Dean said, turning the water off, in time for Sam to retch loudly.

You immediately uncover your eyes, and move to Sam's side. "Easy, just breathe, in and out." You say gently, as you put a comforting hand on his back.

"Y/N," Sam gasped, his face contorting with pain, before lurching forward with a loud and painful dry heave.

"Whoa, its okay. I promise you're okay." You say, grabbing him in an effort to slow him down as he jerked forward.

Dean stuck his head out of the shower, as Sam lurched forward with another painful retch. "Damn, Sam, what happened? Did you eat something bad?" he asked in concern.

"No, I was feeling sick earlier." Sam panted, before dry heaving repeatedly.

"Why didn't you say something? I could have gone with Dean tonight, so you could rested." You say gently, no sign of reproach or anger in your voice.

"I felt better." Sam said weakly, as he leaned forward on his arms, looking exhausted and miserable.

You sigh softly, before standing up and grabbing a towel, and offering it to Dean.

"Thanks, Y/N. Can you hand me my clothes? I'll just get dressed in here." Dean said, knowing that Y/N could handle a sick Sam.

You nod quickly, grabbing his clothes, and handed them to the man in the shower. You grab a clean washcloth, wet it in the sink with cold water, wrung it out, and put it on Sam's neck lightly. "This should help," you say sweetly.

Sam shivered hard, as goosebumps showed up all over him. "M cold." He groaned weakly, shivering and shaking.

"I know, Sam, its okay." You say, before leaning down and kissing his sweaty forehead. "You have a nasty fever brewing." You said in concern.

"We don't have anything for fever or nausea. I'll go out and get some." Dean said, walking out of the shower fully clothed and no longer muddy.

"Thanks, Dean, that would be a huge help." You say, sitting back down beside Sam. "Breathe, you'll be okay." You whisper in his ear.

Sam shuddered, taking a deep breath before gagging harshly, as he suddenly vomited all over the toilet seat and into the bowl.

"Oh Sammy," You say, grabbing another towel to clean up the mess. You wipe up the murky vomit covering the toilet seat, keeping your face in a neutral composition, even as Dean left in a hurry.

Sam lurched forward, vomiting violently into the toilet and barely missing your arm.

You flinch visibly, before pulling your arm back and putting it around his back.

Sam gasped loudly, before vomiting again three times in a row. "Ugh, this is nasty." He grumbled.

"I know, its okay. Getting all that yuck out of your stomach though, will overall be for the better." You say gently. You stand up to grab a glass of water, flinching as Sam started retching loudly. You turn around to look at him, as your heart clenched sadly for him.

His normally handsome face was pale and tinted green. His long hair sticking to his face, as it was soaked with sweat. His entire body was shaking from its exertion to expel all of its contents.

"Y/N?" Sam asked shakily, his eyes wide and urgent. The urgency and panic sending a stab of uncertainty into your heart.

"What's wrong?" You ask automatically, searching his face for a sign of what was upsetting him.

Sam gasped softly, as he struggled to stand up. "I need help... like now..." he groaned frantically, as he fumbled with his belt buckle.

"Okay, what can I do?" You ask, slightly confused by his behavior, but you move to his side again. You lift him up carefully, feeling how much the poor man was shaking.

Sam shook his head quickly. "You may not want to stay in here anymore." He said, as his stomach made a loud gurgling noise.

You look at him in surprise and confusion. "Why?" you ask, as he finally got his belt undone and worked on getting his pants pushed down.

Sam finally dropped his pants, moving rapidly and shakily, and sat down on the toilet with a loud groan. Before he could say a word, any color left on his face drained away, as the sound and smell of diarrhea landing in the toilet filled the bathroom.

"Oh, Sammy; here, Y/N, have him take these. They should help him out a bit." Dean said, covering his nose and handing you a bottle of liquid Tylenol and a bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

"Ugh, Dean, go away!" Sam groaned, bending over his lap in pain, as another eruption of diarrhea could be heard.

Dean laughed loudly, before groaning in disgust. "Damn boy, you're really sick. Yell, if you need me." He said, retreating quickly.

You pour the necessary doses for Sam, before handing the dosage cups to him. "Please take these, they should help." You plead softly, not wanting him to suffer any more than he already had.

Sam shook his head, groaning as he was hit by another round of diarrhea. "It'll just come back up." He croaked hoarsely.

"Please try." You beg, hating how pathetic you sound. "I'll be here to help either way." You promise in a stronger voice.

Sam nodded slowly, downing both cups quickly, flinching at the combined flavors.

"Thank you..." you breathe, washing out both cups in the sink.

"Y/N?" Sam asked shakily, drawing your attention to him immediately. His face was stark white once again, and he kept swallowing hard, like he was afraid he would get sick if he didn't keep swallowing.

You instinctively grab the trash can, put it in his lap, and rightly enough. No sooner was his lap occupied, did he vomit into the bin violently.

"So much for those meds." You say softly, as you gently tuck his long hair behind his ears and away from his mouth.

Sam grabbed some toilet paper, wiping away some pink foam on his lips. "Ugh," he shuddered, blinking rapidly as he tried to regain his focus. "I'm sorry." He mumbled weakly, looking like he was about to doze off on the toilet.

"There is nothing to apologize for. Let's get you in the bath, clean you up, then you can go to bed, yeah?" You offer, knowing you need to get the mud off of him before he goes to sleep.

"Do I have to?" Sam whined, groaning as another round of diarrhea coursed through him, and as it filled the toilet, left him dry heaving into the bin.

You sigh softly, almost tempted to give him what he wanted. "Yes, Sammy, I need you clean before bed." You say, as you reach around him and flush the toilet. "Clean yourself up, so I can help you move to the tub... Or I could always ask Dean to help me." You say slyly, knowing that Sam would hate to have his older brother see him.

"NO! NO Dean!" Sam exclaimed frantically, as he wiped himself up and shot into a standing position with a sharp hiss.

"Whoa! Easy, Sam, calm down. Come on, into the tub, before you make a mess everywhere else." You say kindly, moving the curtain out of the way, and tried to help him strip.

Once Sam was situated in the tub, you turned the water on warm, and let it fill the tub, while you went in search of clean clothes for Sam to wear after his bath.

"How's he doing?" Dean asked from his bed, looking at you clearly.

"He's sick, but I think some sleep should help." You say with a shrug, grabbing the clothes you needed, and some fresh clean towels. You walk back into the bathroom, put down the clothes, and squat beside the tub. "How you doing, Sam?" you ask sweetly, relieved to see a bit of color returning to his face.

"Tired... and sore." Sam admitted sorrowfully, looking at you with exhausted eyes.

"Do you want some help with your hair, or do you got it?" You ask, always willing to help if he wanted.

"I already got it." Sam said, rinsing off the last of the soap on his head and body.

"Perfect. Let's get you out of the tub, and into bed." You say, turning off the water, and holding up a towel to him.

"Thanks, Y/N, you're the best." He said gently, as he took the towel.

"Yell, if you need me." You say quickly, as your cheeks flush deep red, and you retreat from the bathroom in a hurried movement.

You sit down on the bed, knowing Sam will want to sleep beside you, even if you weren't sleeping. So you lay down in the middle, allowing him to decide which side he wanted to sleep on, as you knew he liked to.

Moments later, Sam slid into bed behind you, spooning you, and falling almost immediately to sleep.

"Not a word, Dean, not a single word." You warn, as you watch the older Winchester pull out his phone. "Put that phone away, NOW!" you squeak, your cheeks turning beet red.

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Sam woke up the next morning feeling much better, until he ended up vomiting on the side of the road, which you had been worried would happen. When are these boys going to learn, Y/N is always right?!

I hope you enjoyed this little fic, and hope to have more chapters up soon, or next Sunday! As always: vote, comment, and request away! Love you all! <3