Samael was trying to assimilate, god knows he was trying. He was out of the mission and in his own place. He had gotten a job working at a book store; peaty menial work but it earned him a paycheck and kept food in his fridge and the roof over his head. Abby brought money in as well, and Samael didn't ask how or where. As long as she stayed
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He didn't know what Sam wanted him to do though. He wasn't sure it was his place to be forgiving him for the things he'd done, when none of those things were done to him. But he wasn't going to leave his brother crying on the floor. He wasn't completely heartless.
He moved forward, sliding to his knees next to him, and putting an arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. "It's okay, Sammy. It'll be okay, alright? We'll work it out."
It was the first time he'd actually called Sam "Sammy" since he'd gotten back, and he wasn't sure how often he'd go back to doing it -- that might cause a bit too much confusion -- but for right now, it seemed to be what Sam needed.
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