Even before Shane opens his eyes, he just knows the world is spinning around him. His head is throbbing. More than just his head, actually— there's dull aches and sharp pains all throughout his body. Waking up after death is almost as bad as dying to begin with.

His eyes flutter open for the briefest moment, just to assess his surroundings, and he's relieved to find that he's in his bedroom— one of the others must've dragged his sorry ass back to the chapel. Shane groans, a rough sound that feels like gravel in his throat; apologies are probably in order. He hates apologies.