John woke up coughing, as usual. But he ached everywhere. And his head was muddy. The exorcist floundered in peeling back to the covers and dragging himself up to a seat. His head dropped into his hands again and he hissed out a breath. And then coughed some more. He didn't remember falling asleep...or anything at all for a few moments. He'd clambered halfway to his feet, dragging the blanket with him unwittingly, before he'd remember anything at all.
It came back to him, and John sat heavily back down on the bed. His throat was tight and dry with the impulse to cough, but John just groped over for the cough syrup, knocking the clock aside without even seeing it.