Well, this is the end for the ride (for now at least) so I hope it wasn't too much of a catastrophe and (obviously) that you enjoyed it. In any case, thank you for reading!
The notion of how excruciating a migraine could be was reaching new levels for Cherry. She groaned— first mistake. It resonated in her skull as if she had screamed through a megaphone while being in a tunnel, each new echo feeling like someone gradually weakingly smashed a hammer in her occiput.
"You're okay back there?" Dean questioned from behind the wheel.
They were in the impala Cherry finally noticed. Through her black dots polluted vision she could discern Dean's eyes staring quizzically at her from the car mirror. Oh, he had asked a question then… what was it again..?
"What?" Cherry slurred as softly as she could manage, hoping it would be sufficient to keep the hammer from striking again.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like my brain is trying to break out of my skull while being hundred feet under water."
"Well, if you can still say that I'm sure you're not as bad as you look."
Cherry observed the statement for a while, only half comprehending it as she fought the vague of sudden nausea.
"If you're gonna be sick just say so will you, I can't forgive someone messing with my baby."
Again it took her second, but she finally begun to chuckle lightly. Second mistake. Her vision was going double from the point at this point. "Wh-where are we going agh... again…?"
Dean's expression darkened and he abruptly averted his eyes "Hospital, the two of you need it."
"Two…?" What was this about..? He would never worry for her at this point and …where was Sam? It was only now that she realized he wasn't in the shotgun. Fear pierced through the veil of pain, and she begun to turn her head as best as she could, looking for the Winchester she knew as much as herself.
It took her a ridiculous time to find out, but finally she saw him: slumped on the car door opposite of hers lied the damaged form of Sam Winchester. With her painfully sharpened hearing she could hear the shallow wheezing occasionally interrupted by brief dry coughs coming from him. Gods... what had she done? Well, an annoying high-pitched voice summarized for her lets see. You couldn't wait to lay your fingers on the monster so you offered little Sammy here on a golden plate, you let him be beaten by his brother on many occasions resulting in multiple broken bones plus he was imprisoned in his own hellish nightmare. Yeah, that's about it.
In a sense, the Winchesters' and Cherry's philosophy were similar as two water drops were: you don't make mistakes but if you do, you fix them, or die trying (although even now she sincerely hoped it wouldn't have to go to such extends).
"Please…"
Dean's eyes found the mirror again.
"Please don't-don't leave me here…"
Maybe it was because Cherry had put her life on the line to save his brother, or maybe it was the fact that an extra mojo capable ally to fight the apocalypse was always welcome, or that he knew that she would end up behind bars if she stayed here… but he had agreed to Cherry's request before the last word could roll off her tongue.
"Can't abandon you just yet, staying here is suicide and you still have to tell me what happened." But Cherry never got to hear that, the banging in her head had finally dragged her down.
oOo
They had to go. They really had to go. The only thing that made that the three of them weren't already incarcerated was that they were still recovering. Dean, the least wounded of the trio, was just simulating at this point, being sluggish and not properly responding to stimuli just to escape the interrogation. Cherry on the other wasn't in need to fake it. Sure she would recover, but she had it mightily difficult to keep her emotions and balance in check, and everything seemed dimmed or "foggy" as she would describe it. Honestly, it didn't help with her mood changes, but hey, at least she was healing quickly. Sam... well Sam had surly been doing better than the last time he woke up completely terrified. For once Dean's presence wasn't able to soothe him, to the point where Cherry had had to assure him he was safe.
For some reason, his little brother had believed her without question and had tried to get his erratic breathing under control even though he still mumbled excuses every now and then. It had taken many reiterations of "It's him this time, it's Dean, I promise" and the choked "I forgive you" from the latter to give the kid a semblance of trust, and Cherry marveled at the capacity of Sam to recover so quickly. Being convinced that Dean was really his brother seemed to work like a magic cure, and that was exactly what they needed right at the moment.
Now, the three yet again stumbled towards the trusted 1967 Chevy impala and for one god given ride everything was back to normal: Dean in the driver's seat with too loud music, Sam as shotgun, and duffel bags in the trunk. From the backseat Cherry looked at the two Winchesters, thinking about how long her own bag was going to rest with the brothers. A soft smile played on her lips at the thought of meeting Bobby; at least this time she wouldn't be the only one to do the explaining.