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Sam’s lips pull together in a puckered smile that he quickly hides behind his sandwich. “So, you wanna talk about the case or you gonna go talk to the stalker?”
“Shut up.” The scowl he points at Sam is ruined by a sudden twitch. Dean’s next sneeze almost tips him out of his chair and onto the floor.
He aches so bad it hurts to breathe. His brother is a prophet. And he may have made friends with a crazy asshole that calls himself a nephilim. “My life is strange,” Dean says.
