When Sam opened his glued-up eyes, he was met with a sliver of light that sent a throb through his skull.

Migraine, then. Or hangover.

He peeled his cheek up from the carpet. Then he tried to move his legs, and realised he couldn't feel the left one.

A muzzy groan from behind him.

'Dean?'

'Mm.'

'You're humping my leg.'

'Right.'

He felt Dean roll away, and Sam's shin blossomed into pins and needles. Getting unsteadily to his feet, he pulled down the blinds, blocking out the light. He avoided the mirror, since he was pretty sure he had carpet-burn on his face.

The blinds down, Sam collapsed onto a sofa. Details from last night were beginning to trickle through. The party... oh God, what had possessed him to drink Luis's tequila? They'd come back to Palo Alto afterwards, Sam and Dean and Brady and Luis drinking each other under the table- well, Dean drinking Sam under the table, anyway- and all sort of passed out in a heap sometime later.

Sam cracked an eye open. Dean was spread-eagled, snoring, on his back on the carpet. Maybe Sam should put him into the recovery position or something? He'd heard stories of people choking on their own vomit. A kid was hospitalised last semester.

He'd get up in a second and do it.

In a second.

SPN SPN SPN

It was him again; the man with the yellow eyes. He sat on the end of Sam's sofa, and Sam immediately sat up, inching back.

'Well, hey there, Sammy-boy,' he said, grinning. 'Nice to see you again.'

'It's Sam,' said Sam. 'And I don't remember meeting you before.'

The man chuckled. 'Maybe if you think real hard about it.'

Sam frowned, but said nothing.

'Well?' said the man after a minute, his eyes gleaming. 'Aren't you curious, Sam? Aren't you wondering why I'm here? All the things a bright young man like you could dream about, and lo and behold, it's a janitor's meatsuit. Don't you find that just a little suspicious?'

'Well, this is a dream, right?' said Sam. 'So no. Not particularly.'

'And that,' said the man, cracking his knuckles in a sinuous wave, 'is why I'm very much afraid you're not going to survive this war.' He sighed, as if half-regretful.

Sam scrunched up his nose. 'I'm not going to die.'

'Oh, Sammy,' said the man, smiling wide, 'ever the skeptic,' and he reached forward to graze a knuckle down the side of Sam's face.

Sam flinched.

The man laughed, before breaking off and cocking his head to the side. It was as if he was listening for something, but all Sam could hear was Dean's quiet snoring.

Barely breathing, Sam waited, not daring to move away from the man's hand on his cheek.

Then the man looked at him almost fondly, withdrawing his hand. 'Why, Sam,' he said, 'I do believe you've got a visitor.'

SPN SPN SPN

He came to still lying on the sofa, disoriented for a few seconds. It took him a few moments to register that someone was knocking on the door.

'Dean?'

Dean carried on snoring.

Sam got slowly up from the sofa. His mouth tasted like a skunk had nested in it. He raked a hand through his hair, wrenching the front door open. Light skewered his eyes, and he shaded them with a hand.

Jess stood on the doorstep, hair in perfect waves, all tank top and legs for days. She raised one eyebrow on seeing Sam, who was barefoot, in yesterday's clothes, his hair sticking up everywhere. 'Fun night, huh?'

Sam groaned. 'Don't.'

She peered round the doorframe. 'Is it safe for me to come in? I won't bump into, like, Luis wandering around naked? Seriously, I have no idea how wasted guys act in the morning.'

'I haven't even seen Luis. And I think Brady went home. Just don't trip over Dean.'

He followed Jess in; she sat down on the sofa, wrinkling her nose at the sight- and probably smell- of Dean splayed out on the floor. Sam curled up beside her and tried to lay his head on her shoulder, but she pushed him off. 'No way am I kissing you until you've brushed your teeth.'

'I hate you.'

'I hate you too. I'll make coffee.'

'Ugh. Thanks.'

Sam headed for the bathroom, but stopped at the door. 'Uh, how was Becky's?'

'It was awesome.' She paused. 'Apparently there's a guy asking around for you.'

He frowned. 'Oh, yeah? Who?'

'A Gordon Walker. You know him?'

Sam shrugged. 'Never heard of him.'

'Gordon who?'

Sam and Jess looked round. Dean was standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

'Well, you look like crap,' said Sam unsympathetically.

'Yeah, thanks, Sherlock. Gordon who?'

'Uh, Walker.'

Dean shrugged. 'Never heard of him.' He looked at Sam. 'One of Mom's friends, maybe?'

'Maybe.'

Looking over at Jess, Dean grinned. 'So, uh, you said something about coffee?'

Sam and Jess exchanged glances, but all Jess said was 'Yeah, sure.'

SPN SPN SPN

In the bathroom, Sam scrubbed the fur from his mouth, then stuck his face under the cold tap. The cold water woke him up some, but his headache only seemed to intensify.

He bent his forehead to the porcelein, but then-

Golden hair lit red by flames-

Her eyes petrified and luminous and accusing all at once-

The gleam of white satin, and the smell, oh God, the smell-

Sam folded to one knee, retching helplessly.

SPN SPN SPN

Dean stopped in the doorway of the bathroom, peering inside. It was shadowy in there, but he could just about make out Sam's silhouette. His younger brother seemed to be resting his head on the toilet bowl.

He chuckled inwardly. Sam and his virgin liver. 'You okay there, Sammy?'

'Fuck you.' Sam's voice was cracked.

'I'll take a raincheck.'

Sam got unsteadily to his feet, flushing the toilet. He walked out of the bathroom, weaving slightly from side to side. Dean stepped back to let him past. Oh, well, it wasn't as if Jess couldn't look after the kid.

'Sam,' he called after his brother.

'What?'

'I'm leaving. Just thought I'd tell you. Carmen's expecting me back for two- and we're going to a restuarant with Mom and Dad.' He paused. 'So, uh, congrats on the full ride. How about next time you get a scholarship we don't celebrate through substance abuse, huh?'

Sam half-turned, kneading his fingers into his temples. His face looked almost grey. Though Dean figured he probably looked like that himself before his first coffee of the day.

'Yeah,' Sam said, though his voice sounded strained. 'Have fun. Um, say hi to-' He broke off, wincing- 'to Mom and Dad-' another wince, and he braced his arm against the wall-

Dean moved forward to catch him, but Sam stayed upright. 'N-no,' he said, though his voice was shaky, 'I'm fine. Just, uh-' he closed his eyes briefly, swaying where he stood. 'A hangover. I guess.'

'You sure?' said Dean.

'What? Oh, yeah. Uh-huh.' Sam ducked through the door into his and Jess's room. 'See you, Dean.'

The door closed behind him, and Dean was left to stare at it.

'Must be one bitch of a hangover, then,' was all he could think of to say.