He was twenty-five years old now ( Read more... )

The whole Dean thing wouldn't get off Sam's mind, no matter how hard he tried to shake it. He'd tried shooting things, which didn't help. He'd tried sulking, but then he was afraid that his father was bound to catch him and start asking questions. So he'd eventually just given up and grabbed a book to just head for a walk, barely paying attention ( Read more... )

Sneaking into the clinic had been a task that'd required a good amount of sneaking and spying. Everyone was going nuts and out of their minds and Sam was about to head out and do a patrol to make sure no one went too crazy. That meant that first things first, he needed a new bandage. Getting into the clinic was step one ( Read more... )

Sam was staring up at the mistletoe and pretty much debating the whole existance of Santa Claus (he had had a conversation with the guy, he was pretty sure he hadn't dreamt that up). And okay, so, he'd seen a lot of satanic worship in his time, but this mistletoe thing was just so innocuous (yeah, Dean would've made fun of him for the ten-point ( Read more... )