Hunter Unknown

Crossing Paths

I woke up slowly comfortable, yet in complete agony. My emotions had settle, paranoia and fear dissolved, but the pounding in my head and queasy stomach was a painful reminder that I had fallen off of the wagon in just five days. I was surprised I had lasted that long honestly, I couldn't remember the last time I had gone a day or night without a drink.

My mind was running again, but I didn't dare open my eyes or stir my body because I was sure I would have the pleasure of experiencing a hangover this time. Just then as I thought about my still body, I remembered the one that had laid down beside me. My eyes flew open and limbs jerked awake as I looked to find out where the lines of drunken reality and torturous dreams had blurred. Thankfully no one was beneath the covers beside me. Staring at the ceiling I drew a deep breath and released a sigh of relief. I clamored off of Dean's bed and attempted to straighten the slightly messy covers when everything dropped to my stomach. Yep, I have a hangover.

I tried to shuffle toward Dean's bathroom as quickly as possible without jostling my aching head too much when my foot struck something and I began to fall to the floor. Somehow I managed to grab onto the end of the bed, but when I looked down to observe what I had tripped over I felt all of the blood rush out of my face. I blinked a few times as I stared down at the army green duffle bag.

Well shit. This is awkward.

After viciously vomiting into Dean's toilet, I went to the sink to rinse my mouth and run some water over my face. I noticed Dean's mirror had been smashed, cracks running in every direction away from one central break. I hoped this wasn't fresh damage. Carefully, I opened Dean's door and started quickly across to my own room. One step out from the comforting warmth of his room, and THUD. In my hasty retreat, I had run right smack into Dean's bruding form. He didn't say a word, just simply stepped around me before entering his room and slamming the door. Fucking Hell.

I hurried into my room and locked the door. I quickly disrobed and threw on a black tee shirt and a random pair of blue jeans. I brushed my teeth and hair before running out to find Sam. His bedroom door was open, and he was nowhere to be found. I walked quickly down the hall looking for Sam. I folund him in the library looking like hell. He looked as though he hadnt slept at all, and knowing him he had not. As I sat down next to him, I saw his face was bruised and scratched in places with dried blood clinging to his skin. Without a word exchanged between us, I returned to the kitchen to make him a strong cup of coffee. While the coffee brewed, I retreived some rubbing alcohol, cotton circles, and some pain medicine.

I returned to Sam and pulled a chair closer to him. Setting down the supplies and coffe, I quickly got to work. With a serious look, I gave Sam the pain capsules.

"Want to talk about it?" I asked him as I wetted a cotton round with the alcohol and gently raised it to his cheek. He sighed and sluped a little in his chair.

"You know I can't." He replied to my disappointment.

"Well I know it has to do with all of this secretive hunt for a cure."

"We had a chance to save him."

"And?" I asked.

"He wouldn't let me."

"Why? Why would he not want that?"

"It's complicated. You know I can't tell you that." He said with a pitiful smile.

I dampened another pad and wiped the cut on his lip, he winced a little.

"You look like shit." I told him as I looked at his now blood free frace, not a bit of humor in my voice.

He laughed a little, "Gee thanks.".

"You're killing yourself by trying to save him. You know that right?"