Sam was looking at Dean. Dean could feel his eyes on the side of his face, shrewd and calculating. He could practically hear his brother’s mind whirring. He kept his own eyes studiously on the bright screen of the unusually new television in the Hollywood-themed motel room. Scooting backwards on his bed until his back was to the wall, he struck a
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One suggestion--could you put your fics under an LJ cut? That's usually the protocol for fics.
I'm almost sorry I never saw "Dark Angel."
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