Seer《Book 1: Season 5-6 》

Fate's a Bitch

Hangovers, are in fact, not just for pussies.

The second I opened my one, very tried eyeball, I felt like I'd been hit by a train, ran over by at least a hundred cars and blown up by the caboose.

For a moment, I hadn't the slightest idea why I felt that way, or where I was. It wasn't until I looked more closely at my purple sheets and caught a glimpse of the familiar doorframe that I realized I was back at Bobby's.

Faintly I recalled arriving at the bar with Balthazar, and the slay fest I had before that. But upon entering the bar until now, it was a complete black out.
Just how much had I drank?

I rolled back over and buried my head in my pillow, willing it to take away the migraine and groaning.

Knocks at the door sounded like gunfire in my skull.
"Rise and shine Tequila Rose!" came the excruciatingly loud voice of Dean, slamming the door open.

I growled both angrily and pitifully into the pillow. "Fuck off," was my muffled reply.

Dean army crawled onto the bed towards my head resting on his elbows, prodding to get a look at me. "Aw what's wrong, sis?" he feigned, purposely speaking too loud. He ruffled my hair, shaking my head enough to feel like it was full of bowling balls knocking around.

"I said...fuck off, Dean." I warned.

Maybe it was a good thing we didn't grow up together. If this is what brothers were like, I'd have killed them.

He laughed at me impishly.
"Come on," he said, slapping my upper back, "Coffee's on and we got stuff to talk about."

I snarled inhumanly and loud, finally forcing my jellied arms to lift my chest to face him.
"I hate you," I whispered.

"I love you too," he said a wink and smirk and pulled himself off the bed, "come on get up, its important. "

To great protest of my aching, dehydrated muscles, I climbed out of the bed, my feet hitting the floor limply.
"Shower first," I croaked, then realized the movement I'd accomplished resulted in instant nausea. The gagging started in seconds, my hand flying to my mouth before I could spew all over myself. I scrambled on clumsy, heavy legs to the bathroom down the hall and barely made it to the toilet in time.
The vomit splashed out of me like something out of the exorcist movie, missing the bowl by inches.

The remaining wretching and dry heaving went on for what felt like hours, but probably only twenty minutes until I just couldn't do it anymore. In the background of my headache, I could sense the laughter downstairs as the sound of my sick likely traveled through the entire house.
When I finished I shed my disgusting clothes and grappled the shower knob to to start it up. Waiting for the heat to rise, I sat slumped on the floor by the tub, my arm hanging over the side of it, buck naked.

Once the nausea had passed, I felt drunk all over again. But not in a good way.
Despite that, a richness in the air made itself known to my senses, and I recognized the feeling to be Castiel.

I didnt bother looking up at him when I caught sight of his shoes near my knees on the tile floor.
I heard throaty rumble of dissproval come from him and he tucked his hands under my arms.
He wouldn't meet my eyes as he lifted me off my feet and set me down inside the tub like a ragdoll.
He knelt beside me and shook my hair with his fingers under the running water, helping it soak into the dense layers.
I hummed pleasingly at the feeling of soul cleansing hot water cascading over my head, leaning it back to let it run over my face.

"Balthazar informed me that I should check in on you this morning..." he said gruffly after watching me for awhile.
I didnt say anything, feeling too sheepish about my actions.