It was odd. Just a moment before, a second really, Sam had been simply going through the Men of Letters archives, sipping the whiskey Dean had put in front of him. But there was a sudden vibe… Intuition? Instinct?
Sam wasn’t sure what to call it. But as a hunter, he had learned to never ignore those feelings. And this wasn’t a good one. He suddenly had a feeling that you were in danger, with no clue as to what the threat could be.
In a second he was up, taking long strides to find Dean, and already dialing your number… praying you would pick up on the other end.
