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?"

Katherine sticks a finger out from her comforter. "I know the answer to this," she breathes. "You made out with a girl named Trina, and Dean has pictures on the disposable from Walgreens."

Dean barks out a laughs and snatches up the camera from the table. "I forgot! Shit...I gotta get this developed. Today." Sam groans, sinking down onto Katherine's bed, and slides in beside her. 

"I didn't wake you up, did I?" She whispers.

Sam grunts a negative, eyes closed as he slowly gets comfortable. "Me?"

"No." She sighs and opens one eye. "Don't fuckin' hit me, Sam. I swear to god I'll end you." He manages to crack a smile. "And don't move, either. The world's'pinnin'."

"You want sweet tea or unsweet?" Dean asks, moving to grab his clothes. "Nevermind. Lemonades for everyone."

"Lemonade?" Sam croaks.

"Don't question it, Sam. Jeez." 

"Stop talking," Katherine whispers. Dean lifts the comforter off of her head and she groans. He shoves her sunglasses onto her nose, pulls the comforter back, and heads out.

Dean's hangover "cure" was more of a remedy. A chicken biscuit, hashbrowns, a large lemonade, one jolly rancher, and one bloody mary. Simple carbs and hair of the dog. Katherine was able to get out of bed within a few hours, but could barely function beyond watching shitty television on volume five with her sunglasses on and the drapes closed. What made it worse was the blood she found in her underwear a few hours later.

Hot rice sock and television all day it was. In a cozy ass hotel, too...if she belt better, she wouldn't be in a complaining mood.

But she kept seeing Dean's death, like an omen, and she felt another wave of cold nausea roll over her.

Sam kept making trips to the bathroom. She stayed curled up in bed, slowly feeding hashbrowns between her teeth. 

Dean, stading at the foot of her bed, takes a piture of her on the dispoable.

"I thought you went to get those developed," she says.

"Photo was closed," he grunts. "Gonna have to do it in another town." Dean sits down too harshly on her bed, and she makes a gagging nose. "What a rookie," he says, pulling the comforter over his lap. "Both'a'ya."

Katherine looks over her shoulder at Sam...still asleep in Dean's bed. She twists back around with a frown. "I'm doing better than he is. His liver is in a state of emergency."

"And yours?"

She lets out a heavy sigh as she ponders it, resting her head against the headboard. "Um...I don't know, I can't think of anything witty." Dean laughs quietly. "Do you remember last night?"

"Yeah."

"All of it?" She turns her head to look at him. He can't see her eyes behind the black lenses.

"Yeah."

"Anything embarassing?"

Dean instantly cracks a smile. "You started a bar fight." Her eyes flit to the red patch on his cheekbone. 

"What?" She whispers.

"Well, maybe you didn't start it," he hums, gaze turning thoughtful. "Some guy touched you, Sam got all riled up, and you shoved him back before taking a swing at the guy. We ran out before the cops were called."

"Is that why my head is throbbing?"

"Well, darlin', you've got some bruises." Dean scoffs. "Can't believe that sum'bitch hit you."

Katherine grunts, touching her fingers to her face. "Wish someone took pictures of that," she hums. "What else?"

"Um." Dean sighs, gaze turing to the ceiling as he thinks. "The usual pool scheme, 'cept you were actually shitfaced and you still beat the shit out of the guys were worked over."

"Who drove us home?" Dean gives her a look. "Dean," she scolds.

"I wasn't gonna leave Baby stranded," he says, holding his hands up. "Save the lecture, Kat, I already got an earful from you last night."

Katherine grits her teeth and looks away from him. "I've never blacked out before," she whispers after a moment. 

"I haven't blacked out in...oh, five years?" Dean shrugs. Katherine shakes her head and burrows into her bed. "I did have a good birthday. Thank you, Katherine."

"I'm glad," she murmurs. "Today we recoup. Tomorrow we hunt." Katherine takes a deep breath and sighs heavily. "As long as there's no vampires."

"Why no vampires?" Dean absently asks, picking at his fingernails. His eyes dart to Katherine after a moment. "Oh. Oh, God. I'm so sorry."

"Yep. Thank you." She holds her rice sock to him. "Will you heat this up for me please?"

He drops it immediately. "Katherine...this is so hot!"

She lifts her shirt to look at her belly. "If my skin isn't red, it isn't hot enough. Forty-five seconds, please."

Dean blinks at her. "Katherine, there is a beautiful bath tub in that bathroom."

She gasps. "Oh, you're so right."