Tittle: Moving Hearts
Challenge: saftey
Word Counter: I fed it's unnatural hunger for percision
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
A/N: When you move anywhere, there's bound to be more than just one type of baggage...
Sam huffed, blowing his bangs aside, as he set down the heavy duffle. He looked around the cramped room and smiled. There were two beds, one desk, and one old peeling poster. The window by his bed looked over the Stanford courtyard. His roommate was coming by later.
There wasn't any lingering smell of hookers, cigarettes, or John's weapon polish. Dean wasn't here to throw dirty underwear around. The Impala keys weren't by the door. His brother wasn't going to come by in a minute with a hot greasy meal.
Sam's face fell.
Independence.
But at what cost?