𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐕𝐀𝐍

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎

Katherine jolts awake with a strangled cry.

Glaring sunlight strikes through the slit between the double-paneled white draps of the hunters' high class hotel room. With an H. 

For the first time in two weeks of being back on the road in a month, she hasn't awoken to the stench of cigarette smoke and mildew of a seedy motel room. They always asked for a non-smoking room and never got it, but they did this time.

All it took was three hundred bucks and four stars.

Katherine lays back down and grimaces, putting her hands over her face. Her head is spinning...for more reasons than one. For starters, they celebrated Dean's twenty-ninth birthday yesterday. Not last night. Yesterday. All damn day. Drinking starting at eleven AM, because it was what he wanted to do. So Katherine sacrified her liver to give him one hell of a sendoff, and Sam was more of a reluctant participant, but they barcrawled with him for...she didn't want to do the math. They stumbled into their room at four in the morning. And she new going to bed last night that she would wake up feeling like she did right now.

Sick to her stomach. Sweaty. Everything is coming up—

Katherine swings her feet over the bed and runs for the bathroom. Someone is already in there puking up his guts, and she has no choice but to head for the kitchenette sink.

No more vodka. Ever. 

At least when she's puking her guts out, she can't think about her nightmare.

Katherine drags herself back to her bed, face twisted into a grimace. 

"So," Dean sighs, sitting on the edge of his bed, hair a mess, eyes squinted as he turns his gaze on her. "You two are new at this."

"Dean, I am certain this is alcohol poisoning," she whispers, slowly sitting back on her bed. It's damp from her sweat, her nightmare. 

Watching Dean die.

"We only did twelve shots," he says with a frown. Katherine groans, pulling the comforter over her head.

"Yeah, in four fucking hours, Dean. I don't even..." She sighs, closing her eyes. "I don't remember things."

"How do you know what you don't remember?"

"Because my memories are brief. I know...I know we came back at four because that's when I looked at the clock."

Dean cackles. "You called Charlie."

"I don't want to know anything," Katherine moans. Silence lapses between the two, until Sam heaves in the bathroom again.

"Poor guy."

"If you wanna rob a hospital and grab some IV bags, I can stick us," Katherine hums. 

"That's such a cop-out."

Katherine sighs heavily, almost falling back asleep. "I hope your bed was soft," she says. "Last nice bed on a birthday, seeing as we aren't gonna make it to thirty."

We as in him. But also...we.

"For all intents and purposes, I am thirty," Dean chuckles. "I stand up and my hip cracks, I sit down and my knees pop, I do a pushup and my elbows feel rusty. That, KT, is your thirties." He throws a bottle of water onto her bed. "You're lucky I'm an avid drinker. I know just the cure."

"If you could bring it into this room, that would be great, because I'm not fuckin' moving."

The bathroom door opens, and Sam shuffles out. "What the fuck happened last night?"