“Sam?”
He shifts.
“Sammy?”
It’s cold.
“How are you holding up?”
He turns his head, frowns.
Holding up?
“Sam.”
Something touches his shoulder and he shifts his weight to the side, turning his face in the direction of the voice. His eyes are closed and it’s dark.
When did he close his eyes?
“Sam.”
The voice belongs to his father, it’s closer now
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I love, love, LOVE this line. I miss John.
Wonderful artwork, wonderful story. It pushed all my SPN fan-fic buttons.
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