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... )

He'd slept restlessly all night -- dreams of sharp-toothed, fanged demon-like creatures combined with the ever-growing, infuriatingly nagging sensation that he was forgetting something important had plagued Sam's subconscious, and he was sure he'd been tossing and muttering in his sleep. Add into the mix certain physical frustrations and general ( Read more... )

It was a very shaky Sam who, despite the fact that it still hurt to do so, carried Phoebe upstairs and got her comfortably -- as much as the circumstances would allow -- settled in bed well after the evening's earlier traumaPart of him wanted to yell at her, and demand what the frak she'd been thinking, going off on her own like that; the rest of ( Read more... )

Sam had never enjoyed being medicated; he hated the loss of control that came with the strong drugs, despite the fact that the pain was by times otherwise overwhelming ( Read more... )

Sam was a fan of quiet Sundays, not having had many of those except in the offseason for years. The only downside to quiet Sundays spent at home though, was that there wasn't much to watch on TV except for sports, and at this point he thought he might try to put the remote through the screen if he had to flip past one more football or -- gods ( Read more... )