"Brielle?" Sam's soft voice made one of her eyes squint open and immediately she closed it again. "Did you finish this?" Why on earth was he shouting so loudly?
"You're killing my ears." She murmured and rolled over, instantly regretting her slight movement. "Oh God, I'm gonna be sick." Brielle half moaned, her right hand going to her stomach.
Sam was quick to grab a small trashcan near his dresser to put near her on the left side of his bed. "Why are you in my room? And why is Dean's whiskey gone?" He sat down on the edge of his bed, eyeing the now empty glass bottle, concern threading its way into his tone. "Brielle."
"I was tired, so I laid here." Sam rolled his eyes at her slurred reasoning. "I'm never drinking again." He smirked and patted her hip. "Just leave me here to die, hm?"
Sam studied the brunette closely, noting her smeared mascara. He suddenly felt sort of guilty for lying to her on the phone about Dean's whereabouts the night before. "Brielle, I'm taking you down to your room. I don't need you puking in my bed."
"I'm not going any-," She burped softly, her other hand coming up to cover her mouth. "Anywhere." Sam shifted and scooped her up easily in his arms before standing up.
Dean was walking up the hall carrying his duffle and their laundry bag. His expression changed as he stopped in his tracks at the sight before him; his little brother was carrying a somewhat argumentative Brielle out of his bedroom and down the bunker hallway towards hers. "Let me down, Sammy."
Hazel met green briefly as he passed Dean. "No. You're laying down in your own room in case you get sick." He stepped aside as Sam moved past him, the brunette in his arms as he turned the corner.
Dean stared after them when all of a sudden, he heard a soft cough before the unmistakable sound of liquid hitting the tiled bunker floor made him wince. "Damnit." He heard Sam swear softly.
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Sam laid Brielle on her bed carefully before eyeing the small puddle of vomit around his feet that was soaking his socks. He carefully slipped off his socks and went to the bathroom, tossing them into the trashcan. He washed his hands before grabbing the half roll of paper towels off the edge of the sink and wiping off his feet before heading down to her room again.
Sam was squatted down, sopping up the sour smelling liquid off the floor by her bed when he felt his brother standing behind him in Brielle's doorway. "She alright?" Brielle was laying on her right side, her back to them. She was already snoring lightly and he looked up at Dean from where he was.
"Yeah, she's great." There was a hint of sarcasm in Sam's tone. "By the way, your whiskey's gone." Dean's eyes narrowed at that and he eyed Brielle before he spoke.
"The whole bottle?"
"Whatever was left." Sam tossed the sour smelling paper towels in the trashcan next to her nightstand. He rose, brushing by Dean to get a wet disinfectant wipe to finish cleaning up and returned a few seconds later. Dean had his arms crossed deep in thought, his eyes on the brunette in her nightgown, passed out asleep.
"Shit Sam... it's two in the afternoon. Why in the hell was she drinking like that?" His voice was quiet, concerned.
Sam squatted down again and the remaining sour smell was replaced with the lemony scent of the wet wipes. "I have no idea." He kept his eyes from Dean's, focusing on the task in front of him. Sam knew damn well that his brother could spot a lie from him a hundred miles away. "I'll let her sleep it off before I talk to her." He straightened. "Let's let her sleep, hm?"
Dean pushed off her doorframe where he'd been leaning. "Yeah." Sam tossed the wipes in the trash and clicked off her room light. They headed down towards the war room.
"I'm gonna grab a shower. Throw our laundry in?"
"Yeah."
The door closed behind Sam and Dean got their laundry bag and threw the smallish load in, poured some detergent and closed the lid. He cranked the dial to hot and pushed start. He wanted to go back down to the sleeping quarters and wake Brielle up and demand to know why she was being so wreckless.
But he knew he couldn't. Instead, Dean headed back to his room and flipped on the light. His bed was messed up a bit, like someone was laying in it after he'd made it yesterday morning. His pillow was laying on the floor at the other end of the room and suddenly, something dawned on him; was Brielle pissed off at him?
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Brielle groaned softly and rolled over, her head swimming with the movement. Why in the hell did she fell so awful?
Dean.
That made her stomach upset to think about again.
That bastard, she thought. Well, whatever this was, was definately over now. He couldn't even respect her enough after the last several months of sleeping together. Dean had completely broken her trust and she was done.
She steeled herself to get up and sit at the edge of her bed, her head pounding. Brielle rose a moment later and headed towards the bathroom to pee and brush her teeth, her left hand on the wall to steady herself.
"Hey sunshine." Sam's soft voice made her sigh as she washed her hands before picking up her toothbrush. He was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and amusement on his face. He'd come down to check on her and saw her heading towards the bathroom, albeit very slowly.
"I puked on you, didn't I?"
"You definately owe me a pair of socks." There was a smile in his answer.
Brielle squeezed some toothpaste on the end of her brush. "I'm sorry. That was stupid."
"Why'd you drink like that?"
Brielle sighed after she spat in the sink and turned the cold water on. "Sometimes I get inside my own head too much." Their eyes met in the mirror. "I'm so sorry, Sam." He watched her rinse her toothbrush off before reaching for her mouthwash to gargle. She spat again and wiped her mouth off with the handtowel. She turned to him, not meeting his eyes.
Sam wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject; he'd lied to her about his brother's whereabouts last night. Had she really been so effected that she'd drank herself sick? "C'mere," Brielle moved into his arms without hesitation. "You feel like dinner?" He leaned down, his chin was on the crown of her head. Sam smiled ruefully when he felt her flinch a bit. "No?"
"I'm gonna go lay back down... just had to get that taste outta my mouth." Brielle felt him kiss the top of her head before straightening to let her go. Her gray eyes met his for a quick moment. "I'm fine."
"Right. You keep saying that..." Sam knew something was bothering her. Everytime she didn't go on one of their hunting trips, they always came back to the bunker to freshly baked banana bread. The homey scent would waft up to the entrance and hit them as soon as they walked in.
But not this time.
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Dean heard the heavy clang of the cast iron skillet hit the stove as his brother started dinner. So domestic, he smirked to himself as he walked down the hall to Brielle's room. He tried her door, but was surprised to find it locked. He tapped softly. "Brielle?" Dean strained his ears to hear some sort of movement.
She was laying on her bed and her gray eyes opened immediately upon hearing his voice.
But she didn't answer him.
Dean's strong hand jingled the doorknob again before giving up and she heard his footsteps fade down the hallway before suddenly, her phone vibrated next to her on the comforter. Brielle picked it up and thumbed it on.
"What?" Her tone was crabby.
"Hey... easy." He spoke quietly over the line, his eyes narrowing. "What's going on with you?"
"Nothing. I'm sleeping."
"Why'd you lock your door?" Dean was pacing his own room, phone to his ear.
"I'm tired, Dean. I'm hungover and I wanna sleep."
He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closing. "Why in the hell were you drinking like that? Are you pissed off at me or somethin'?"
On the other end, she sighed. "I'm not... anything at you, Dean."
"Can I still come down and lay with you tonight?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
"What?"
"Goodnight, Dean." Brielle hung up her phone and held down the power button until it turned off.
Dean had his hand on his hip as he tossed his phone in the middle of his bed. He ran a hand over his mouth and Sam appeared at his door a few second later. "Chicken okay for dinner?" He noted the bitchface his brother was currently sporting and raised an eyebrow.
"Yeah." Dean sounded grouchy and Sam just nodded, not wanting to press.
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A/N: Thank you thank you thank you for your reviews and PMs! They make my freaking day when I get an email alert. ;) You guys are amazing and I can't wait to post the next chapter. I work all day this Thursday, but I hope y'all have a happy Thanksgiving! -CitrineMama