[ London pulls a smile from him, and Sam reaches up to card his fingers through the feathers on his back, between his wings. Yeah, yeah, all right, Damon's trying - and Sam appreciates it.

It's a balance, between being too accepting and drifting into enabling and being too harsh and drifting into judging, but it's not a balance that Sam's unfamiliar with. And it's not one that he expects to get right every time - he sure as hell hasn't in the past - but he's not perfect. Neither is Damon, and Sam'd never want him to be.

He kind of gets the feeling that doing this, that having people who stay around after a fight like that and make an apology necessary - having people who still love him even when things are bad - is rare for Damon. ]

You think?

[ But he shakes his head, and his mind opens back up a little as he moves in closer. ]

We can raid the stocks in the kitchen later, see what passes for alcohol around here. God knows I need it. How you doing with all this, huh?