"Bein' weird, as usual," I mutter, 'cause if I thought I'd gotten a handle on Sam Winchester back on the island, that illusion was completely blown out of the water, here.

I let myself get pushed back against the pillows, sliding back under the covers with him and shifting around to face him, our legs tangled under the sheets.

Letting out a slow, shaky breath, I push a hand through his hair, fingertips brushing over his scalp. "Closer how?" I ask softly, even though he's right, there's a big part of me that'd rather not know.