Jim had just finished packing the last of his things when he heard a truck pulling up front. Seconds later, his front door burst open, and a red-faced, swaying John Winchester blinked at him.
“John?” Jim asked.
“You,” John growled, and sprung forward, fist outstretched.
“Calm down!” Jim barked, grabbing his unsteady fist and swinging. “You
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Hope you are able to write again soon!
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God, I love this.
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