"Gah!"

Sam sat up in bed, drenched in sweat with his breathing coming heavy, and a moment or two later he realized his hands were shaking.

What the hell had that dream been all about ( Read more... )

Sam wasn't sure what he was doing here; the music in his head was exceptionally strong tonight and had been for several days without letup. Not wanting to disturb Phoebe or Cole, he'd slipped out of bed and -- armed with a pair of knives and his gun, because you never knew -- gone for a long walk. For whatever reason, that aimless meander had ( Read more... )

Stupid earworm. Stupid, stupid vague sense of music in his head that kept getting stronger lately, and wouldn't leave him alone. It only compounded matters that the distraction was making it impossible for Sam to get any work on the nursery done -- he'd gotten so caught up in the tuneless humming that he'd whacked his thumb badly, and he ( Read more... )

It was just Sam, his bike, his helmet (hey, he wasn't stupid), and the open road tonight, and for now that was how he liked it ( Read more... )

He'd promised Phoebe he wouldn't try and go after Cole alone, but Sam justified his brief trip back to his own house by telling himself that he'd only gone to get a few changes of clothes and things he needed, and he'd be right back ( Read more... )