Ugh, my head. The pounding was resonant and repetitive in my brain, punishing me for something, I didn't know what. The light coming in through the windows of the small, paisley printed motel room. I squinted, and rubbed my eyes with the back of my hands to clear the dancing fuzzy spots out of my vision. My gaze rested on the piles on empty beer bottles lying in front of me. Wow, I must be so wasted, I don't remember anything from last night. Come to think of it, I don't remember anything for a while back, maybe a week?
I look around, panicked to see where I might have taken myself last night, silently begging not to see a greasy guy standing in the room. Thank God, it was only Dean. He smirked at me, and threw a greasy pork sandwich into my lap. "Best hangover cure ever invented," he boasted. I gagged and threw the limp sandwich into the trash.
"Where the hell are we," I mumbled, rising slowly off of the couch. I swayed, and almost fell back down if it wasn't for Dean, who steadied me with a palm pressed against the small of my back. Dean looked down at me with a smug face.
"I didn't think you had that many last night, I guess I was wrong. You are smashed, Hanna." He started to guide me to the table. "Doesn't matter. We have work to do, and you are gonna suck it up like the almost adult you are." I groaned in frustration, and plopped down at the table.
"Fine," I complained. The case would come back to me, I just had to be reminded. "What are we dealing with again?"
Dean replied, "Not sure yet, but the victims, all female, all died with their brain cuts out of their skull. Pretty specific if you ask me." I almost puked at the thought of the brains being separated with the women's head. "So, now we just gotta talk to the friends and family of the deceased, see if they have anything in common."
How wasted must I have been? I don't remember any of this. "Where were we before this?" I asked Dean, trying to place what day it was.
"We were hunting a werewolf." Nope, didn't remember that either.
"When did we kill that spirit who went after the ballet dancers?" I asked, finally remembering the last case I actually remembered.
"Hanna, that was more than a week ago, we have had three cases besides this one in between now and then. Are you okay?" Dean bit his lip, his telltale sign when he got nervous.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." I would probably remember something sooner or later. "I'm going to hang out with Drew for a bit. Call me if you need anything," I told Dean, and left the motel with my phone.
Standing outside the dreary motel, I dialed Drew's number. He answered after the first ring. "Hanna, listen to me, I can explain everything. The thing with Mara was a stupid thing, and I never wanted to hurt-"
"Wait-what thing with Mara? Did you hook up with my best friend?" I was in shock. How could my boyfriend for more than two years sleep with my best friend?
"Han, are you kidding with me? You found out last night." Oh. That explains a lot. Still, it felt like a fresh wave of betrayal and sadness rushed over me.
"I never want to hear from you again!" I slammed my phone shut and rushed to the back of the motel for solitude. Hot tears streamed down my face as I flushed, embarrassed with my own stupidity. This was ridiculous. Apparently, I had already gone through this whole mess, why should I do it all over again.
But something didn't feel right. Even with the drinks, I should still have some sort of deja-vu when thinking about Drew, but there was nothing. As if it never happened, so it felt new, like a new wound in a place that you knew had been injured before, but it didn't leave a scar.
I straightened up, leaning against the wall. I guess now I have no excuse to stay away from this case. To be honest, I hated these cases, they just reminded me of dad, which reminded me of him dying, which, to say the least, was not the most pleasant thought in my head. But, Drew and I were finished, and there was nothing else to do here in, well, wherever I was.
I rubbed the tears from my eyes and walked back to our room. I used my key and opened the door to see Sam and Dean, about to head out.
"Hey, you tagging along after all?" Sam joked, "Something wrong in Drew and Hanna paradise?" Dean snickered when Sam said this. Oh God, I felt the tears coming again. No, please, not now, just let them make fun of me and lets not talk about anything serious, it's barely 10 in the morning. So much for that. Even just the tiny, tear that escaped from my eye caught both brothers' attention immediately.
"Hanna, what's wrong? Is this about last night?" Dean grabbed my shoulders and looked my dead in the eye.
"What happened last night?" I said, wondering what Dean was talking about.
"You don't remember any of that? Nothing? How you came in crying and then passed out on Dean's lap?" Sam asked, concern furrowing his brow.
"No." I replied, starting to get a little worried myself. The hangover symptoms had worn off fairly quickly, and I should now be able to remember at least some of last night events. "My memory has been a little foggy lately. I can't really remember-"
"She can't remember an entire week, Sam. That's way more than what a few beers is capable of." Dean turned back towards me. "Why were you crying?"
"It, nothing really. Just something with Drew," I mumbled, not wanting to get into the details. "He, um, did something that I didn't want him to do." That's all I was going to say for now. This conversation could wait for another time. "C'mon, let's go."
I saw Sam and Dean cast worried glances at each other, but they agreed, and we headed out to the Impala.