"Aren't we all bound in one way or another?"
Since Abigael made the decision to place herself into a deep slumber, to come to terms with the knowledge Lucifer provided. All seemed well, and calm. She was coming to terms with the fact of it all. But...
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True to his word, Dean drove me back to Bobby's home. During the journey, I drifted in and out of consciousness, my body battling the venom that coursed through my system. It was like I was fine one minute, talking, but the next plunged into darkness. The pain and disorientation were constant companions, and all I could do was fight to regain some semblance of strength. The road blurred by, a silent testament to the endurance and determination it took to keep going despite the venom's debilitating effects.
Amid the haze of my muddled thoughts, I vaguely recall muttering to myself about some distant memory. The details of that past event eluded me, lost in the thick fog that enveloped my mind. In what felt like a mere matter of minutes to me, I found myself lying on Bobby's couch. I recalled glimpsing the boys talking to Bobby, but the next moment, I drifted away into unconsciousness.
My eyes started to flutter open, and I found myself staring at the familiar ceiling of Bobby Singer's place. Lately, I've been seeing more of his ceiling than my own. The relentless pounding in my head echoed against my skull, and a cool damp washcloth was gently laid across my forehead. It was as if someone had been looking after me. My groggy moan filled the room as I slowly roused from my slumber.
"You're awake," Bobby's voice reverberated around me, but it felt as though he was standing right next to me and shouting.
"Not so loud," I responded in a hushed tone, my voice barely above a whisper. I gradually pulled myself upright and nestled into the cushions, yearning for the room to cease its relentless spinning.
"You okay?" Bobby materialized in front of me, and I strained to lift my head to meet his concerned eyes.
"It feels like I've been on a weekend bender," I replied, maintaining my subdued tone. Suddenly, the washcloth slid from its position and landed in my lap, but I was still too weak to be bothered by it.
"You've been in and out for a day," Bobby states, grabbing a chair from nearby and placing it in front of me before sitting. "Dean gave me the low down," he retorted, making me raise my head to meet his gaze.
"At least I wasn't turned," I replied with a soft chuckle, but even the vibration from that rattled my head. Making me squint and raise a hand to my forehead, my fingers kneading my skin.
"Has this ever happened before?" Bobby inquired, his raised eyebrow reflecting his curiosity. I paused, searching my memory for any similar experiences in my life, but drew a blank. I had always been cautious, believing I was somewhat invulnerable.
"No," I eventually admitted, the word escaping my lips in a hushed tone. "But you live and learn," I responded with a faint smile and released a sigh as I leaned my head back, touching it to the couch, my gaze fixed on the ceiling.
"You can stay here until you're back on your feet," Bobby generously offered me a spot in his home. "No matter how long," he continued, prompting me to lower my head to meet his gaze.
