Chapter Text
The throbbing of her head was what really woke her. It was as if a high school brass band was practising inside her skull. Okay. That was the last time she agreed to Tequila shots. This body was definitely not made for Tequila shots.
She winced at the light streaming in from the motel window. Seriously, the sun needed to install a dimmer and dial that sucker back a few notches. With a moan she turned over and faced away from the glare. It wasn’t very long before something or should she say someone nudged her foot. She groaned and hid under her pillow, hoping Sammy would get the hint.
“Up and at ‘em, Dee!” Sam called from the foot of the bed, “Stevie called. She’s got something.” Dianne’s reply was a string of garbled up syllables muffled further by the pillow. “Dude, seriously, we gotta go. I told her we’d meet her around noon.”
She didn’t respond to that. Yes. Play dead. Maybe Sam would go away. The room was silent for a few beats, almost as if Sam had decided to play along.
Her bedcovers were suddenly yanked from her and her pillow was lifted from her head, “Unless you want to skip the shower, I’d suggest you hop to it.”
“Why are you yelling?” she grunted.
Sam laughed, “Charlie drink you under the table again?”
“You’re still yelling.” She pushed herself into a seated position and rubbed sleep from her eyes, “and you don’t even have my coffee.”
“You can have coffee on the way. The sooner we wrap this up, the better.” Sam walked to her bed and carried on sipping from the cup in her hand.
Dianne forced herself to get up. Her body was used to being pushed that extra mile even when it complained. She shuffled to the bathroom and put herself in auto-pilot, turning on the shower, adjusting the water temperature, stripping out of her sleeping trunk and tank top, tying her hair into a top knot and stepping into the shower. The odd thing was as she scrubbed her body clean, she didn’t feel the usual nausea that came from a night of way too much alcohol or the aches from a hunt—what the heck were they even hunting anyway?
Her head got clearer as she showered but the headache refused to go away. She turned off the water, reached for her towel and dried herself as she walked out of the shower. She stood in front of the mirror and swiped the condensation away with her hand. She stifled a flinch as she took in her appearance. There were no tell-tale signs of a crazy night of drinking and/or hunting. Her face was the same old oval with fair skin and freckles dusting her straight nose and cheeks. Her eyes were their usual bright green colour and there was no fatigue in them and her full was slightly parted. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at herself. Something wasn't right. She neither looked nor felt hungover but the headache refused to go away and there was something about her face that just bugged her. She couldn’t lay a finger on it but she was sure that if someone were to point it out, she would kick herself thinking how could she not see it.
She stepped back into the bedroom, still towelling her hair. Sometime during the shower, she had caved and decided to wash her dark blonde locks.
“Did you say I went out with Charlie last night?” she sat down and faced her sister. Even looking at her sister, something just bothered her. Sam was tall—a full head taller than her even though Dianne was the older sister—and had long dark brown hair that tangled into loose curls. Her skin was the right amount of tan and her eyes were just the right amount of green. She wore dark blue skinny jeans and a brown t-shirt. There was honestly nothing wrong with her appearance. And yet, something just nudged Dianne, making her dissect every feature on her sister.
No, you’re just hungover. Stop staring. It’s creepy.
Sam seemed confused by the question at first, “Yeah, you went out with Charlie, Jonah and Grace. You wanted to, quote ‘show your livers who’s boss’. I guess you didn’t consult your brains about the matter.”
“So why don’t I remember any of this?” she said and started applying lotion. It made no sense, she’d been blind drunk before but never in her history of alcohol intake had she ever blacked out an entire evening. She usual retained snippets of the evening but to lose an entire chunk of time? This was a first. Whatever had been in that Tequila…
“Guess you were pretty smashed.” Sam had traded her coffee for her laptop. The symbols the creature left behind had no known origin, Stevie had also been stymied at first. “You came back at around two in the morning singing—or rather butchering ‘Ramblin Man’” Sam shook her head.
“I might be getting too old for this stuff.” She dressed in her light blue denim shorts, a black tank top and a black-and-red flannel shirt before slipping her feet into brown combat boots. Her hair was still damp and would have to dry on the way. “I’m ready. Let’s go.” She said as she stuffed her sleeping clothes into a duffel bag and reached for the car keys in one move. “Are you sure I went out last night?” she asked as Sam locked the door.
Sam whipped her head to her sister, “What do you mean?”
Dianne scratched the back of her head, “I’m just not getting that hangover vibe.”
Sam just gave her a disbelieving look accompanied by a snort, “And you would be the best judge for these things?” Dianne shrugged, “Alright, make your case.”
She was silent for a long second, “I just know, okay? I’m the older and wiser one and I just know.” she stomped her way to the car while Sam went to return the key.
“Does your head hurt?” She asked Sam when she came back.
Sam paused in the middle of getting in the car, “Uh, no?”
Dianne started the car, the familiar sound of her baby coming to life was a comfort, “I have the mother of all headaches.”
“That’s what happens when you mix Tequila, whisky and Jäger.” Sam replied and closed the door.
“But Sammy, I’ve been drunk before, like New Year’s Eve drunk and I’ve been hungover before. It just doesn’t feel like that.”
Sam shrugged, “Maybe you’re getting too old.”
“Don’t say that.” She sighed and pulled out of the parking lot. Stevie’s was about three hours away and she was in no mood to prod further about this whole thing. It really bothered her that she wasn't sure where she’d been or what she’d done. Hell, she wasn't even sure what the hell they were hunting. She turned on the radio and tried to focus on the road. This headache was a real bitch.
Her foot ghosted over the brake pedal when she thought she saw something on the road. She slowed down just a smidge as she tried to make out what it is she was seeing. On the other side of the road was what appeared to be a woman with long red hair in a long blue dress holding a yellow stone in her hands.
She needed coffee, quickly. Her mind had to stop playing these tricks on her.
“You’re sure your head doesn’t hurt?” Dianne asked again.
“Is it me or is this an odd conversation?” Sam glanced at her. “I feel fine.”
"Where are we going again?" Dianne asked as she resumed moved the car into the fast lane of the freeway.
"Blue Ash, Ohio," Sam supplied. “Stevie spoke of a strange string of deaths.”
The older sister glanced at the younger one, “Strange like that guy who shot himself in the head three times or strange like the old lady with the weird kinky bondage?” she shivered at the latter. That had really not been in their wheelhouse.
“Stevie wasn’t liberal with the details but I’m guessing it was weird enough for Stevie to need backup.”
Either that or she was getting senile, Dianne thought to herself, “What day is it?” she asked again.
“Tuesday.” Sam replied and shook her head, “Are you still drunk? Maybe I should drive.”
Dianne refrained from shaking her head, it already felt as if it weighed a metric ton and jostling would surely make her pass out, “Nah, I’m okay. I just…” she sighed, “Are you I went out last night?”
“Yeah, Charlie, Jonah and Grace picked you up and you went on a… and I’m quoting here ‘an epic pub crawl for the ages’.
“I haven’t seen those guys since that time Grace threw up on the bartender.” She looked out the window, “I am never drinking again. Maybe you should drive.” She eased Baby onto the shoulder of the road and got out without waiting for her sister's reply.
Halfway into the exchange of their positions, Sam took her sister by the shoulders and scanned her face, "Maybe you're coming down with something," she felt at Dianne's temple, “You don’t feel warm and you really don’t look sick.”
Dianne pushed Sam’s hand away, “Whatever, let’s just table my non-hangover hangover for another, Stevie’s waiting for us and you know how she is about being kept waiting.”
“Promise you’ll tell me if you get worse?” the brunette asked reluctantly.
Dianne nodded.
Sam knew she wouldn’t keep that promise.